


Prodigal Brother

by RenkonNairu



Series: A Song of Steel and Light [2]
Category: He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Development, Clone Baby AU, Dead Little Sister, Divergence began at end of season 3, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Higher ranked clones are allowed individuality, Hode is a 'Dead Little Sister' for Skeletor, Hordak's Past, Horde Prime's past, M/M, More tags to be added, No Hive Mind, Not Canon Compliant, Out of Fandom References, Skeletor's past, Zed is a 'Dead Little Sister' for Prime, as defined by TV Tropes, combination of different show canons, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21531967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenkonNairu/pseuds/RenkonNairu
Summary: Everyone's heard the story of the Prodigal Son, whom leaves his home and squanders his resources. Exhausted and ashamed he returns home and is welcomed back by his family with open arms.This is not that story.Or,In which Hordak takes the long road to figuring out what's really important to him and what he needs.
Relationships: Entrapta & Original Character(s), Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra), Hordak & Horde Prime, Hordak & Imp, Hordak & Skeletor, Hordak (She-Ra) & Original Character(s), Imp & Original Character(s), Keldor/Original Male Character(s), Skeletor/Original Male Character(s) (past)
Series: A Song of Steel and Light [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1529684
Comments: 247
Kudos: 302





	1. A Song of Steel and Light

Unlike almost every other cabin, and corridor, and chamber aboard the Vinyl Hood, Lord Hode’s Gallery Deck was extremely well lit. So well lit, in fact, that it was almost too bright. Zero-Zero-Three had to squint the nictitating membrane of his eyelids for several minutes while his eyes adjusted to the brightness. The vibrant ruby glow dimming to just a matte red. 

Zero-Zero-Three had only been a sub-Commander working under Force Captain Six-Seven-Four for a little short of three weeks. Ever since his own sub-Commander was killed in action and he was the lucky brother out of his unit that was chosen to be promoted to the newly opened position. This would be the first command briefing he would attend that was given by Lord Hode himself. 

He had never seen the cabinet Lord up close before. Lord Hode of the Third Division. They said he was eccentric and odd, but also a tactical genius. 

Standing at a rest just a step behind his Force Captain, Zero-Zero-Three was seeing the ‘eccentric and odd’ part. 

The Gallery Deck was exactly what the name would imply. A gallery of alien artifacts. Items taken from the planets Hode conquered for Horde Prime, or planets that were already conquered and part of the Empire, but Hode had to visit them for one reason or another. There was a mask carved out of a kerek fragment, with shells inlayed in designs that gave the illusion of depth and contours of a face. A blanket woven from reeds dyed bright colors, the patterns coming together to depict an alien scene. A primitive blade sharpened from an animal tusk with an anthropomorphic hilt. Jewelry, and pottery, and decorative boxes, primitive weapons, intricately woven or knitted textiles of diverse fibers, traditional clothing, ceremonial dresses, sculptures, and illustrations. 

In all honesty, Zero-Zero-Three did not see the point of many of these things. Most of it didn’t even serve a function. The headdresses looked heavy and would be a liability in a battle. The clothing was cumbersome and impractical. The illustrations just hung on the walls and didn’t do anything. The sculptures took up space around the chamber and forced the officers to navigate around them. The pottery looked functional, but they were decorated so unnecessarily. Who even needed a solid gold, jewel encrusted goblet anyway? Why couldn’t they just drink out of a standard issue commissary tumbler like everyone else?

“This is the third time we have had to put down a rebellion on this world.” Hode announced, sounding annoyed. Possibly even frustrated. 

Anyone who knew of Lord Hode’s rise to power knew that he was actually instrumental in putting down the first two rebellions. The first when he was still just a sub-Commander like Zero-Zero-Three. Young and inexperienced, he somehow managed to take down the slippery and illusive King Hiss, a victory that earned him a promotion to Territory Captain of the planet. Years later, after another rebellion had gained momentum, he managed to capture and execute the leader of that one as well. King Miro, the supposed ‘rightful ruler’ of the planet. Now Hode was a cabinet Lord, in charge of many star systems, a quarter of the Empire, and he was still having to come back here. 

To Eternia. 

To put down a new rebellion. 

“This time they’re calling themselves the ‘Heroic Warriors’.” Hode pressed a button on his datapad and the bright lights of the Gallery Deck went dark, holograms of the leaders of the ‘Heroic Warrios’ being projected on the glass display cases of his art collection. Ram Man, Mekanneck, Stratos, Man-at-Arms, and King Randor –the son of the late King Miro whom Hode executed. The boy had grown up –as naturally born being tended to do- and had started a rebellion of his own –as the children of rebel leaders tended to do. 

Zero-Zero-Three stood at rest as he listened to his Lord explain each ‘Heroic Warriors’ powers and abilities. For all coming from the same planet they were widely diverse. Such diversity did not usually exist naturally on one planet. 

“This has to be the last one.” Hode really wanted to drive the point and make sure that each and every one of his officers understood that he was sick and tired of having to come back to the already conquered world to put down the same rebellion every few years. “Eternia needs to be stable.” There was a strange kind of emphasis on that statement, a tone that implied that Eternia’s ‘stability’ was more than just social and political. But Zero-Zero-Three did not know enough about the planet to hazard a guess. “Do you know why new rebellions keep cropping up on this world while other planets will submit quietly?”

No one answered that question. It was a general, unspoken, unwritten rule that when a cabinet Lord posited a question to a room instead of directing it at an individual, they did not want an answer. Besides, no one was gonna guess anyway, for fear of getting it wrong. 

“It is because the Eternians think they have ‘destiny’ on their side.” Hode announced, giving his officers the answer they never would have guessed on their own. The Horde did not believe in ‘destiny’. “They have a prophesy that keeps cropping up every generation. A kind of poetry they have put to music to rouse and inspire their masses.”

Force Captain Six-Seven-Four scoffed loudly. 

The lights still dark, Hode moved to one of his display cases, his cape whispering around him. A shadow moving among the shadows. He opened the glass and withdrew an alien instrument. Shaped from wood, with a long neck, and strings. Hode began plucking his talons along the strings. The notes forming a haunting melody. 

“This is what keeps getting the Eternian’s blood up.” He announced. 

Then Lord Hode began to do something odd with his voice. Something Zero-Zero-Three had never heard one of his brothers do before. It was like he was speaking, but the syllables were rising and falling, the words elongating at the end of every other line. His speech weaving in the with notes he was plucking on his alien instrument. Almost as if the two were one entity. The instrument’s sounds and Hode’s voice. 

“If we should lose the fight,  
“Light’s Hope burns ever brighter.  
“One hundred days and nights,  
“Engines, pistons form a choir.

“If blood should stain the skies,  
“As waxing stars re-ignite.  
From Despondent dark they rise,  
And strike a chord of steel and light.”

In front of him, Zero-Zero-Three’s Force Captain fidgeted slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other impatiently. Nobody would have noticed except that Zero-Zero-Three was standing directly behind him. It was a little disrespectful to do in the presence of your Lord, even if you were impatient and didn’t see the relevance of this… music. Zero-Zero-Three certainly didn’t see any relevance to making all of the Force Captains and sub-Commanders listen to this alien… noise. 

“Embrace the spark of Grayskull’s last.  
“Rekindle dying embers.  
“As her brother bares his blade,  
“By the Power, untampered.

“She brings light in darkest night,  
“The sword forged for Honor.  
“Of Protection breathes new life,  
“An heir for Mara’s redemption.”

Zero-Zero-Three found himself suppressing the urge to sigh. He had heard that Lord Hode was eccentric and odd. He hadn’t realized when he was promoted to sub-Commander just how much of his Lord’s eccentricities and oddness he would have to endure. Would all mission briefings be like this? He hoped not. The Horde had no need of music. The Horde had no music of their own. They did not need to borrow noise from other planets. 

Then Hode launched into a repetition part of the song. Zero-Zero-Three didn’t know it at the time, but later he would learn this was the part of a song called the ‘chorus’. 

“No sacrifices in vain.  
“Behold the bleeding stars.  
“Unholy night, the skies have been stained.  
“Return - not without scars.

“Their coming – prophesied,  
“Between blades of red-wings ride,  
“Wielding blades of steel and light,  
“The purest spirit, sealed inside.

“He'll break the night.  
“She'll break the night.  
“They'll break the night.”

After those last three lines, ‘he’, ‘she’, ‘they’, Zero-Zero-Three thought the song would be over. He shifted his rest into an attention, ready to take his assignment and deploy down to the planet. 

But then Lord Hode kept singing. 

“Of Runeswrod’s heavy hearts,  
“Like fabric, torn and tattered,  
“Two worlds ripped apart,  
“A true bond cannot be shattered.

“My prison, Despondence.   
“And salvation uncertain.  
“Redemption to find worth in.  
“Have-“ 

Did Hode’s voice skip for a moment? Was this a difficult song? The spoken language of Eternia was one of the languages all clones were programed with. Singing in Eternian should not be any more of less difficult than speaking in Eternian. 

“Have all I slain deserved it?

“From ashes, resurgence,  
“To cleanse this ‘verse or burn it.  
“To fate they are but servants.  
“They’ll break these chains we’re cursed with.”

Hode seemed to recover and dove back into the melody. The lyrics flowing with the tones of the instrument seamlessly. 

“Through windows to the past,  
“Cold touch of Revena’s Last.  
“Even the Batking’s hearts,  
“Forgotten, long departed.

“No sacrifices in vain.  
“Behold the bleeding stars.  
“Unholy night, the skies have been stained.  
“Return - not without scars.

“Their coming – prophesied,  
“Between blades of red-wings ride,  
“Wielding blades of steel and light.  
“The purest spirit, sealed inside.

“He'll break the night.  
“She'll break the night.  
“They'll break the night.”

Finally, as the last notes faded into the dark, Lord Hode relaxed the instrument in his hands and stopped singing. 

“That is why Eternia has been so problematic for us.” Hode announced. “They have legends and prophesies. Shining heroes and magic swords. They are convinced that –this time- the prophesized heroes will appear. This time. They’ll cut through the red wings of our banners. This time. They’ll wield magical blades of steel and light. This time. They’ll break the metaphorical darkness of Imperial control. This time. This time. This time. That’s the problem with cultures with prophesies. They instill an irritating amount of false hope. Hope that motivates rebellion. To control Eternia, truly control it, we have to destroy their hope.”

“But was it nessisary for us to stand here and listen to that.” Zero-Zero-Three muttered. He didn’t even realize he was speaking out loud until Lord Hode reached for his datapad again and commanded the lights back up. 

“Who said that?” He demanded. 

Force Captain Six-Seven-Four looked back at him. Turning to glare at Zero-Zero-Three. Make sure the subordinate officer understood just how much trouble he was in. 

There was nothing Zero-Zero-Three could do. His options were either have his commanding officer turn him over, or confess on his own. Both would yield the same results. But one of them would at least ensure that he did not lose respect from his brothers. 

“I did.” Zero-Zero-Three announced, raising his hand so that Lord Hode could see him behind the other officers of higher rank. “I do not understand the relevance, my Lord.”

Captain Six-Seven-Four stepped to the side. All the higher ranked officers moves out of the way so that Lord Hode could get a clear and unobstructed view of the brother that had dared question their Lord in front of his subordinates. 

Hode studied him. His eyes, glowing ruby red from under the darkness of his hood moving down from Zero-Zero-Three’s face, taking in his uniform, the sub-Commander badge on his chest, his exposed thighs, knee-high boots. Then back up again, finally meeting the younger clone’s eyes when he was done. “What is your designation, sub-Commander?”

Zero-Zero-Three swallowed. He was going to die. He knew it. Lord Hode was going to execute him for his insubordination. “I am 66694-42-003, my Lord.”

A clone from batch number sixty-six thousand six-hundred and ninety-four. From crèche number forty-two. Hatched out of tank number three. Individual designation simplified to just Zero-Zero-Three. 

“The relevance is to help you –all of you- understand the enemy you are about to fight.” Hode announced. “A great deal can be understood about a species by studying their art. Music –that’s what this was- is a form of art. You should study art, Zero-Zero-Three. If you understand a species’ art, you will understand that species. And if you understand them, you can control them.”


	2. Regular Routine in Dryl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a moron. I forgot to add the link to the song in the first chapter. 
> 
> As I said in a previous authors note in the first installment of this series, "Genetic Composite", I do not write poetry or songs. All the songs in my fan fictions -this one included- are pulled from other sources. I might tweak the lyrics a little bit here and there to fit the story, but they are not my original creations. 
> 
> "A Song of Steel and Light" is a lyric edit of ["The Legend of Azor-Ahai"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vGuWTdnKKx8). This is the melody I hear when I type the lyrics.

Hordak stared at the painting. 

He did not understand how it could be in two places at once. 

He was sure he had passed this painting before. This was not the first time he thought this. So sure was he, in fact, that he scratched the wall with his talons last time he passed the other painting to mark the spot. This painting did not have any such scratches in the wall next to it. That could only mean one thing. Entrapta had two copies of the same painting, had hung them in two different parts of the Crypto Castle, and he was not where he thought he was. 

Hordak was lost. 

Standing there in the dimly lit corridor, Hordak glared at the painting as if it had personally offended him. 

A depiction of mammal. It vaguely resembled a flerken, but with large and oversized eyes which Hordak imagined were meant to make it appear to be ‘cuter’ or more ‘adorable’. It was rendered in shades of fuchsias and violets, popular colors here in Dryl. If Lord Hode were standing here, analyzing the painting with him, the old clone would say the color choices implied that the artist was one native to this territory and not from another Princess’s Queendom. Or, perhaps, that the piece was a commission by the Princess and the painter used her preferred color pallet. 

Hordak didn’t know. In all honesty he didn’t care. Hode was the one who fixated on art. To spite his mentor’s multiple attempts, Hordak never acquired the taste. 

He just wanted to get to the lab to do some routine maintenance on his exo-suit. 

Only, he couldn’t get to the lab because he was not in the part of the castle he thought he was in. Which meant he was not heading in the direction he thought he was going. 

How did one even navigate the Crypto Castle? 

Fingers curling into a fist, Hordak dealt a frustrated punch to the wall next to the frame of the painting. There was a pattern of spider-web cracks in the wall when he pulled his fist away. 

“Feel better?” 

Hordak turned at the sound of the voice. A voice like any of his cloned brothers, a voice like his own, but younger. Less mature. Higher in pitch and shallower in timbre. A child’s voice. 

But the clone child was not standing behind him when he turned around. 

Hordak looked up. 

Hanging upside-down from an open vent in the ceiling was the speaker. Face identical to Hordak’s own. Or, rather, identical to how Hordak’s face must have looked when he was still growing in the tank. A square chin and round forehead. High cheekbones that aligned seamlessly with pointed ears. A vertical nasal cavity in place of a nose. But the cheeks were fuller, rounder than Hordak’s own. Filled out with what Baker called ‘baby fat’, although this creature was not a baby. The eyes were also a different color. They were still solid sclera without pupils and glowed with bioluminescentce. But where Hordak’s eyes were a ruby-red, a primary red, this child-creature’s eyes were more of a bright fuchsia –the same color as Entrapta’s eyes. 

This creature was not a true clone. They were not an exact copy of Hordak. All of Hordak’s own attempts to clone a new body for himself failed. 

This creature was created by Entrapta. She took the basic idea of ‘cloning a new body’ but went the extra step and analyzed the DNA before reproducing it. She cut out the damaged segments of the sequence, the parts of the code that caused Hordak’s ‘defects’ and replaced them with coding from her own –healthy- DNA to fill in the holes. In short, instead of making a clone, Entrapta built a genetic hybrid of the both of them. 

The hybrid was never meant to achieve sentience of its own. It was never even meant to be conscious before Hordak’s mind was transferred into it. 

But Scorpia let them out of the cloning tank too soon. The body was not fully mature, still very much a child’s body, not an adult as was the original intention. And the moment they woke up, they began to learn. To form thoughts and opinions and an identity all their own. If Entrapta tried to place Hordak’s mind in the hybrid’s body now, it would not work. There wasn’t space for two people in the same head. The brain would suffer a traumatic stoke and the body would die –killing both Hordak and the young hybrid with it. 

So, they were stuck. 

Hordak, as he was. Still in his same ‘defective’ body that was slowly degenerating. Dak –short for Hordak Second of the Name- as they were, unsure of their place in the world, wanting to form connections with the people who’s genes formed them, but unsure how. 

“How long have you been following me?” Hordak demanded of the hybrid. 

“Not following.” The hybrid shook their head. They lowered themself down from the vent in the ceiling, slithering on long strands of prehensile hair. Another trait inherited from Entrapta’s side of the gene pool. It looked like Hordak’s hair in color and texture. It was blue and coarse, only growing out the head in a narrow mohawk down the center. But it was long and thick. As long as the hybrid was tall, and equally as strong and versatile as Entrapta’s twin-tails. “Looking for. You’re late for your check-up. Mother put me in charge of the maintenance of your tech-parts while she and Scorpia are in Brightmoon.”

Hordak glared down at the composite creature. Not a true clone, not a brother. But unsure what else to categorize them as. Scorpia called Dak his ‘child’. The remnant of Horde forces that remained in Dryl called them his ‘heir’. The hybrid referred to Entrapta as ‘Mother’ and she made no attempts to dissuade the creature from doing this. But… they did not call Hordak ‘father’. The Horde did not have ‘fathers’. The clones of the Imperial Horde –the real Horde- did not have ‘children’ either. They were all brothers. 

But this creature was not a brother. 

This creature was… unacceptable. 

Horde Prime would view them as unacceptable. 

Hordak was glad Scorpia released them from their tank early. Hordak did not want to return to his Brother in the body of this… mongrel. 

“I do not require your assistance to perform routine maintenance on my own exo-suit.” He informed the child. 

A squawk of disagreement was heard from the vent the hybrid just vacated and Imp flapped out, circling in the air between the two. He opened his mouth wide and repeated, ‘You’re late.’

Dak only smirked at the older Hordak. “Don’t need help with your armor, but you do need help.”

Hordak opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was an angry snarl. He loomed over the child, shoulders arched, fingers spread, talons extended, crimson teeth exposed. Had this been the Fright Zone, and Dak one of his Force Captains, Hordak was sure the younger would have found him utterly terrifying. They would have crumpled in abject horror and begged the Hoard Lord to be merciful. 

But this was not the Fright Zone. This was Dryl, Entrapta’s home territory and sovereign Queendom. Hordak was not ruler here. Dak was not one of Hordak’s Force Captains, they were not an underling. They were half of Hordak’s own species. They also had wide shoulders, and sharp talons, and could make feral, animalistic sounds with their throat. They did not crumple in abject terror. 

Dak just gave the older Hordak an unimpressed frown. “Does that make you feel better?”

It was all Hordak could do to sputter at the hybrid. He had been living in Dryl for several months now, he had been living with this creature for several months now, and he still hadn’t figured out how to… interact with them. Dak did not give the reactions Hordak was used to receiving from other beings. The hybrid was rather like Entrapta in this regard. But while Entrapta scoffing and brushing off his attempts at intimidation was endearing, this mongrel child was only infuriating. 

“It probably didn’t make you feel better, did it.” Dak continued. They held up a datapad. After a moment’s examination of the readouts it displayed, Hordak realized it was statistics on himself. One of the previous upgrades Entrapta made to his armor after they arrived from the Crimson Wastes was a feature that transmitted bio-data from his exo-suit to Entrapta’s main computer in her lab, a computer that was synced to the datapad the mongrel held. “Increased heart rate, shallow breathing. Getting excited and shouting –or snarling- is not what you want to do before your armor has the chance to be serviced.”

Unbidden, the memory of himself yelling at Entrapta then immediately passing out flashed through his mind. But by the bloody spears of the All High Host! Hordak was not about to admit to this composite creature that they might have a point. 

“If you have taken it upon yourself to guide me through this absurd labyrinth, then do so silently.” He commanded the child. “I do not desire a lecture from one who does not have either the experience nor the programming to know what they are talking about.”

Since the intention was to have a blank body for Hordak, Entrapta never gave Dak any kind of programing in the tank. When they emerged, the hybrid could not even feed or toilet themself. They were only one month older than the amount of time Hordak had lived in Dryl. Dak had not had the opportunity or time to have many life experiences. 

They were young, and with that youth came inexperience. 

Dak sighed. Shrugging with their hair as well as their shoulders. “Follow.”

The hybrid began walking without even making sure that Hordak was indeed following them. Imp fluttered down to perch in the young clone’s hair and chittered at him to hurry up, or else he would get left behind and lost again. 

Bearing his teeth in frustration, Hordak glared at the tiny deamon. He and Imp had been together since they first arrived on Etheria. They were pulled through the portal together all those years ago. How dare he side with this new clone over him! 

With nothing else to do, Hordak fell into step behind Dak, glaring daggers at Imp’s satisfied grin. 

The rout the hybrid lead him on was winding and confusing. It was not the same sequence of corridors Hordak took to the lab the last time he was there. At every turn, he paused to scratch the wall with his talons, marking the path with arrows. This was not the first time he tried doing this, but –somehow- all his marks would disappear by the next time he tried to navigate his way to the lab. It was at the point now that Hordak was starting to wonder if the Crypto Castle’s rooms and corridors moved and changed. 

But that was absurd. If the Crypto Castle did that, surely Entrapta would have warned him. 

Either that, or there was a small army of bots that prowled the corridors buffing and repairing the walls, erasing his marks. 

Hordak wasn’t sure which explanation was more likely. This was Entrapta’s home, after all. 

Finally, Dak stopped in front of a door and punched a code into the key pad with their hair. “It’s nice that Mother gave me the access code so that I don’t have to keep breaking into the Locked Room anymore.”

‘Lab’ Imp corrected with a recording of Entrapta’s voice.

The door slid open.

Entrapta’s lab was a disorderly mess. Not that his own Sanctum back in the Fright Zone had been much better. But that had been his mess, then, later, their mess. This mess was her mess and… the mongrel’s mess. 

There was a pile of First Ones crystal fragments strewn over one worktable. That would be Entrapta’s mess. Anything First Ones tech related was hers. Against a far wall of the lab, a partially constructed –or deconstructed- humanoid bot slumped. That would be the mongrel’s mess. They were still studying basic structures, gears and joints, pistons and belts, simple circuitry and basic functions. 

Hordak did not have a mess in the lab. Hordak did not have any on-going projects. His only really significant project had been the portal. That was over and done with. Now he was focusing on his own body. When he returned to his Brother’s side, he would be expected to perform no differently than any other clone trooper. Warrior trained. Strong. Quick. Agile. Skilled. Fearsome. Capable. 

To that end, Entrapta –or, at the moment, Dak- were giving his exo-suit regular tune-ups. Slowly increasing his strength, enhancing his agility, improving reaction times. Trying to return him to the level of physical ability he used to enjoy back when he was a young clone, before his defects presented themselves. Even after they presented but hadn’t advanced and spread quite so much would be acceptable. Hordak performed admirably for many years after the physical limitations of his defects made themselves known. Of course, he had Hode’s help in that. Hordak never did learn why his mentor didn’t just kill him outright when the older man learned of his failings. Hode didn’t just not-kill him, Hode helped him conceal his condition. 

Dak set the datapad with Hordak’s pulse and respiratory statistics down on a consol. The screen faired to life and the data that was on the small pad was now projected onto the larger monitor. 

If it were Entrapta, she would have whisked him off his feet by now. Used her hair to lift, carry, and position him in a space in the lab where she could do non-invasive scans of his body and the armor, before setting her machines to dismantle it and put it back together. Dak, was not Entrapta, however. They did not feel the same level of ease with Hordak that allowed Entrapta to utterly disregard the concept of ‘personal space’, and Hordak did not trust the hybrid clone enough to allow them to manhandle him around the lab. 

Perching on their hair, turned at a bit of an angle so they could see both the monitor and Hordak at the same time, Dak pointed to an empty space. “Stand there.”

Bearing his teeth again, Hordak did not move. “You do not command me, Mongrel.”

The hybrid only frowned. They were probably getting used to people in Dryl doing what they said. As far as any citizen or resident of Dryl understood, Hordak Second of the Name was Princess Entrapta’s child and heir. The kitchen staff treated Dak as if they were a young Princess being groomed to take over their mother’s Queendom. The occupying Horde forces that remained in Dryl differed to Dak as if they were Hordak’s heir and future Lord of the Horde (although there was now a division between the Fright Zone Etherian Hoard, and the Dryl Etherian Hoard, but that was not relevant at the moment). Fact of the matter, people in the Crypto Castle, or around the territory obeyed the hybrid as they would any other future monarch. 

But they were not Hordak’s monarch. They were not Hordak’s commanding officer. They weren’t even a proper brother. 

There was a beat of a pause as the two clones glared at each other. 

If the roles were reversed and it was Dak refusing to follow an order that Hordak gave, the latter would be looming over the former. Snarling with fangs out. Trying to intimidate the other into compliance. 

But Dak did not seem to have inherited Hordak’s temper. Instead, they held the older one’s eyes for a moment, luminous fuchsia meeting glowing ruby, before pressing a button on the consol. The word ‘Connecting…’ scrolled across the screen and Hordak felt something akin to apprehension bubble in his stomach. 

“I will call Mother in Brightmoon and explain to her that your armor will not get its scheduled service.” Dak announced. 

Before Hordak had the opportunity to object, or to insist that he could service his own exo-suit, the call connected and the screen filled with the image of Entrapta’s face. 

She was holding something that looked suspiciously like half a casing of an emitter for a particle beam in her hair. Face smeared with grease. Shirt sporting new stains. But her mask was up and she looked enthusiastic. “Oh? Hey, guys! You need something?”

Before either of them could answer, she was distracted by someone off screen. 

“Wait? No, no.” The frame tilted as she turned to whomever was off screen. She must be holding the communications pad in her hair. “It’s not gonna fire a laser. The laser is only for targeting. It’s a particle beam, but particle beams are invisible, so the laser is so you know what you’re shooting at. You see,-“ she then launched into an explanation of how particle beams worked, what the ‘particles’ were, why the beam was invisible to the naked eye, and speaking of eyes you shouldn’t look directly into lasers either, here’s why on that too. It was only after these info-dumps were completed that she remembered she was still on a call from home. “Something come back wrong with Hordak’s exo-suit? Maybe I can trouble shoot it from here. Describe the malfunction.”

“Haven’t started yet.” Dak announced. 

Entrapta frowned. “Regular maintenance is not something that should be put off.”

The hybrid flashed one more look back at Hordak before turning back to their ‘Mother’ on the screen. Dak opened their mouth to tattle tale that Hordak was not cooperating.

But the older one cut them off before any tattles could be told. “Your clone is perfectly capable, Entrapta.” Hordak announced. The mongrel was certainly ‘competent’ enough to be ‘capable’. “They merely wished to notify you that everything is proceeding as per your instruction and there is nothing to worry about.”

“Oh. Okay.” Entrapta hadn’t been worried. There was an awkward pause in which she just blinked at the screen as if not sure what was supposed to happen now. Social convention and ‘phone etiquette’ were both on the list of ‘Thing Entrapta Does not Understand and Is Not Good At’. “So… How was your day…?”

“We do not have to exchange pleasantries if you do not wish to.” Hordak informed her. 

“Great!” Entrapta ended the call without any goodbyes. 

The main monitor screen went blank for a moment before Hordak’s bio-stat readouts reappeared. 

Hordak fixed the hybrid with an angry glare. “It was not necessary to call her.” 

Dak met his angry glare with a mocking smirk. “But I am just a mongrel that cannot command you.”

From somewhere above them, Imp laughed. Although, it was a little unclear just what –or whom- he was laughing at. The little deamon seemed to find the antics of the two clones very, very amusing. 

“Now, stand there.” Dak pointed. 

This time, Hordak complied. He crossed the space to where the mongrel indicated. In front of the main monitor array, but slightly to the side. Bellow a medical array that was looted from the First Ones ship in the Crimson Waste. It was the same highly advanced medical equipment that saved his life so many months ago after a fight with Catra that left him bleeding out with his jugular cut open. 

Hordak would have died –in fact, he did die. Hordak was ‘mostly dead’ for several minutes. Scorpia and the rebels that accompanied Entrapta were ready to leave him as he was. Dead. 

But Entrapta insisted that ‘mostly dead’ meant still partly alive. She insisted in saving his life. 

And with the help of the highly advanced First Ones tech, she did save his life! 

The First Ones tech knitting synthetic tissues into his wounds to repair the damage his defects prevented his body from doing on its own. Then grafting equally synthetic skin over the repaired tissues to close the wounds. 

The artificial tissues and skin left him with very striking scars. Bright violet. Almost the same color as the First Ones crystal at his throat. Four vertical lines slicing down his face from forehead to chin where Catra had scratched him in their fight. It was only by the grace of the Host that she hadn’t gotten his eye! Horizontal slashes across the side of his neck where she had opened his jugular, the wound that had killed him. All of them an inorganic looking shade of bright violet that made a bold contrast compared to the paleness of his face, or the dark blue-gray of his throat. 

Hordak did not enjoy looking in the mirror anymore. When he did return home, Horde Prime would see the scars first and his Little Brother second. That wasn’t just a fear, if was something Hordak knew in his bones. 

Yet, he didn’t consider not returning back to Prime’s side. Not even for a moment.


	3. Brightmoon's New Normal

It was only after Entrapta ended the call from Dryl that she realized she should have mentioned that she missed Hordak and couldn’t wait to get home. Not only was it a normal thing that average people said, it was also true! 

But Hordak was smart –well, smarter than the average person- he probably already knew she missed him and couldn’t wait to get home. To her own lab, her own Lab Partner, and even their little accidental Lab Intern. 

It seemed like her visits to Brightmoon were getting longer and longer. 

Entrapta made a deal with Adora, that if she activated the medical equipment in the Infirmary of a crashed First Ones ship to save Hordak’s life, then Entrapta would repay the debt by building weapons for Brightmoon and the Princess Alliance to combat Horde Prime when he arrived. 

Adora was resistant at first, reluctant that there might be a need for more weapons, denying that Horde Prime could even come to Etheria at all. One needed a Sword to open a portal and as far as any of them knew, Adora had the only Runesword –the Sword of Protection. But Imp –via a translation from Swift Wind- told her Prime was coming, Entrapta told her Prime was coming, Hordak was sure Prime was coming and that he could open a portal. With so many warnings and assurances, She-Ra could not take the chance. Adora helped Entrapta save Hordak.

Entrapta bought Hordak’s life with her service to the Princess Alliance. 

After she bundled Hordak up and got him safely settled in her own Queendom of Dryl, Entrapta packed up some equipment from her lab and made her way over to Brightmoon. 

The first visit wasn’t really all that long. Just to survey the palace and surrounding landscape, confer with Bow –whom was officially the Alliance’s Tech Master- and decide on the best spots to mount anti-spacecraft artillery. 

That visit lasted only a week and Entrapta was back in the Crypto Castle with Hordak and their clone before she knew it. She mounted the medical array looted from the Frist Ones ship in her lab, then she and Hordak were working on his armor together. Collaborating on a project like they used to. This time with the occasional assistance of a Lab Intern. It was the happiest Entrapta had been since before she was sent to Beast Island. Working with Hordak truly made her happy. It was worth every moment she had to spend apart from him in Brightmoon.

But she did have to go back to Brightmoon. The second visit lasted longer. 

They weren’t just surveying now, that was when construction actually began. Setting foundations and turrets to mount the artillery on. Deciding where to place particle beams, and where to stage hard-munition missiles. Building each in turn. It took collaboration, manpower, and time. Before Entrapta even knew it, a month had passed. Hordak was overdue for a routine tune-up of his armor, and she had to place a call to the Crypto Castle to their Lab Intern and talk the hybrid through how to do it for the older Hordak. When she got home, she would double check their work and troubleshoot anything that needed to be fixed. She hoped delegating Hordak’s care to Dak would not become a regular thing. 

But this current visit was going on a second month now and Dak having to be the one to service Hordak’s exo-suit for him did become a regular thing. 

Entrapta set down the datapad with a sigh. Hordak had been living in her home Queendom of Dryl for six months now and she had spent half that time away from him in Brightmoon. 

Turning her attention back to the piece of particle beam casing in her hair, Entrapta got back to work. The faster she finished these weapons for Adora and Glimmer, the faster she could get home. To her own castle, her own lab, and her own Lab Partner. 

There was a loud clatter behind her and Entrapta glanced back startled. 

Scorpia was standing next to Emily. She had dropped whatever was in her pincers and was sprinting up to Entrapta. “Was that little Dak? How are they? Did you tell them I said ‘hi’? I mean, I didn’t say ‘hi’, but that was only because I didn’t know they called. If I knew they called I definitely would have said ‘hi’ to them. How are they doing? It feels like we’ve been gone so long. Are they getting along with big Hordak?”

Scorpia was Entrapta’s best friend. But, sometimes, Scorpia was too much for her. She had a lot of energy and was very social and sometimes Entrapta was overwhelmed. “The standard maintenance of Hordak’s armor is proceeding as per my instruction.”

Looking ever so slightly disappointed, Scorpia deflated. “Yeah, but, how are they doing? Are they getting along? Is Dak happy? Is Dak remembering to play and have fun? They might be a clone, but they’re still a kid. Even in the Horde we had games. I mean, they were training games. But they were still fun. Dak should be having fun.”

Frowning, Entrapta reflected on the brief call. Hordak did most of the talking, not Dak. And the last time she was home, she spent most of her time focused on Hordak and his exo-suit, not their genetic hybrid Lab Intern. Were these things she needed to look for and make sure of as a… ‘mother’? Truth be told, Entrapta had no idea how to be a ‘mother’. Her own mother was not ideal and the whole experience (the ‘experience’ being her entire childhood) left her feeling very uncomfortable with the idea of ‘motherhood’. She found it easier to treat Dak as another one of her bots, rather than her… offspring. So long as Dak continued to function, and did not voice any needs or concerns, she assumed they were fine. 

Extending her hair, Entrapta passed the datapad to Scorpia. “You can call them back if you want. I’m sure Dak would be happy to see you.”

Taking the pad, the younger woman looked noticeably disappointed. As Dak’s ‘mother’ Entrapta was the one who was supposed to check-up on the hybrid, make sure they were having fun, and feeling fulfilled. Not just ‘proceeding as per instruction’. “Yeah. Sure.”

She was about to punch in a call back to the Crypto Castle. 

But Entrapta’s hair snatched the datapad back before she could. “Oh! Wait! This has the specs for my particle beams on it, I still need it. You can call Dak later. Right?”

“Oh.” Now Scorpia looked very, very disappointed. “Okay. I guess.”

Scorpia picked up what she dropped, which turned out to be several yards of insulated cabling. Entrapta needed it to connect the particle beams to the power source. 

“Oh, and can you find Bow for me?” Asked the tech Princess. “I just wanna confirm with him as Brightmoon’s tech master before I weld all this down. Once it’s in place they won’t be able to move it.” 

“Sure.” Scorpia sounded noticeably deflated. 

“The sooner we get this done for them, the sooner we can go home.” Entrapta reminded her. “Then you won’t have to call Dak, you could just see them.”

That was true. 

Entrapta wanted to get home –back to the Crypto Castle- just as much as Scorpia did. To that end, instead of spending time on social calls that ultimately distracted from the project that needed to get done, she was focusing on getting it done. Once it was done, they could leave. And if it was done-done, they wouldn’t have to come back. They could stay in Dryl indefinitely. Or, at the very least, until the next big crisis began –which would probably be Prime’s arrival. 

Hordak was still planning on returning to his Brother, and Entrapta was not looking forward to that. She wanted Hordak to be happy, but she also wanted him to stay. Ideally, she’d like him to be happy with her, but she also understood that she couldn’t force him to feel the way she wanted him to feel. Returning to Horde Prime’s side was more important to him than the enjoyment he got from working collaboratively with her and there was nothing Entrapta could do about that. All she could do was keep him in Dryl and not extradite him to Brightmoon to face justice as a war criminal like Catra was. She couldn’t make him choose her over his Brother, but she could keep him safe until his Brother arrived. 

Entrapta lowered her welding mask over her face, although she couldn’t weld anything until she got the final go-ahead from Bow or Glimmer. 

“Be back soon.” Scorpia left to find Bow. 

The Princess Alliance’s Tech Master was conferring with Glimmer and her advisors –Shadow Weaver whom helped her rescue Adora from the Horde during the portal fiasco, and her father Dowager-King Micah. In the war room, examining a hologram of Brightmoon, the new placements of their weapons from Entrapta marked in violet, and various vectors they expected Horde Prime to come from marked in red. All of them were angled over the ground. Coming through the Whispering Woods, over the mountains that separated Brightmoon from Dryl, or across the ocean into the bay. None of them projected Horde Prime coming down from the sky, which was where both Entrapta and Hordak lead Scorpia to believe would be the direction he would actually be coming from. At least, Entrapta had built the majority of her beams pointing up. 

Scorpia noted that Adora was not present in the room. The acting-Queen of Brightmoon was not conferring with She-Ra on the defenses. Not that it was any of Scorpia’s business, but the scuttlebutt –gossip, outside the Horde scuttlebutt was called ‘gossip’- was that the relationship between the legendary Princess of Power She-Ra and the young Queen of Brightmoon had become strained ever since the previous Queen, Angella, Glimmer’s mother, was lost in the portal. Scuttlebutt was that Glimmer blamed Adora, Catra, Hordak… and Entrapta for the loss of her mother. 

Glimmer and the Alliance needed Entrapta to protect themselves from the new threat of Horde Prime, so the young Queen could not retaliate against her. Hordak was given asylum in Dryl and would not be extradited to Brightmoon or another Alliance nation to face justice. And Adora was She-Ra, the protector of Etheria. Glimmer couldn’t retaliate against any of them for the loss of her mother. 

None of them, but Catra, whom was currently being held in the Moonshadow Prison –which was constructed shortly after the loss of Queen Angella. It was one of Glimmer’s first acts as Queen of Brightmoon and –at present- one hundred percent of its prisoners were Horde soldiers and prisoners of war. Catra chief among them. 

Micah smiled at Scorpia when she entered. It was her and Sea Hawk that gave him a ride off of Beast Island. He would not be home now were it not for Scorpia coming to the island to rescue Entrapta. Even if she did used to be a Force Captain for the Evil Horde, and still remained loyal to the Horde’s Tech Princess –and by extension, the Horde’s Lord, Hordak- Micah liked her. She seemed nice. 

Glimmer frowned at Scorpia’s interruption. 

Shadow Weaver probably scowled as well, but it was difficult to tell with her mask on. 

Bow offered a gentle smile. They reached a strange sort of understanding between each other in the Crimson Waste when Entrapta seemed willing and ready to sacrifice Dak –an innocent and naïve child- in order to being a dead Hordak back to life. They didn’t really ‘hang out’. They were not friends in the strictest sense of the word. Sea hawk was closer friends with Scorpia than Bow was. But they understood each other. They were each the ‘cheerful and friendly’ member of their respective groups. They just wanted everyone to get along and be happy, healthy, and alive. 

To that end, Scorpia was almost as invested in setting up defenses against Horde Prime as the Alliance was. She just wasn’t very tech savvy and so the help she could offer was mostly just carrying heavy equipment or running messages between parties. 

“Did you need something?” Bow asked genuinely. 

“Entrapta needs either you or the Queen to okay the final placement of the particle beams before she welds them down.” She supplied dutifully. 

Glimmer glanced back at their tactical map, projected in hologram pastels over the table. She certainly didn’t see any way the placement could be changed to improve their deployment. If she was going to be completely honest with herself, she didn’t know what to expect from this Horde Prime. All her life she had been fighting Hordak, whom was –apparently- an underachieving and disappointing younger sibling to the ‘Emperor of the Known Universe’. 

Raising her chin, trying to seem a regal as possible, Glimmer tried to put as much ‘Queenly authority’ into her voice when she answered. “The placement is fine. Please tell Entrapta she has the Queen’s blessing to continue.”

“Great!” Scorpia smiled. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can get back to Dryl and little Dak!”

“Oh, how is Dak?” Bow asked with a smile, a genuine smile. He got a little attached to the genetic composite while on their adventure together. Dak helped Bow and Adora escape the dungeons of the Crypto Castle, flew with them across the Growling Sea to Beast Island, and braved the Crimson Waste to discover Catra and Hordak had set up a new base in Mara’s crashed ship. It was a fast adventure, taking place within the space of a week. But in that time, Bow decided that he liked the little clone hybrid. He wanted them to be happy, healthy, and alive –just as much as any other friend or member of the Alliance. 

“They called this morning.” Scorpia supplied. “I didn’t get to talk to them, but Entrapta says that things in Dryl are proceeding ‘as per her instruction’. I can only assume that means Dak is fine.”

Next to Bow, Glimmer scoffed. “Locked in a castle with Hordak, I highly doubt that.”

Both Scorpia and Bow frowned. 

“Hordak will care nothing for that child.” Shadow Weaver announced. 

Micah cringed visibly. He did not like agreeing with his former mentor-turned-traitor. But he did have to admit that when she had a point, she did have a point. Even back when she was Light Spinner, the woman always had an uncanny ability to read people. To understand them. It was one of the things that made her such an expert manipulator (and was the main reason why Micah would never allow the woman alone with his daughter). 

“From what I know of Hordak…” Micah did meet Hordak face to face once. Briefly. Shortly after his defeat with the first Princess Alliance. At the time, Lord Hordak of the Evil Horde seemed… cold. Not ‘cold’ like ‘cruel’. Cold like ‘unfeeling’. Emotionless. Devoid of empathy or the ability to understand. Not the kind of person one wanted to leave as the primary adult with a child. But, from what he understood of Hordak from Princess Entrapta, his original assessment of Hordak all those years ago might have been incomplete. The man was not ‘unfeeling’, just… guarded. Still not really one that should be left in charge of a child. Especially if they were too guarded to allow themselves to care for it. “…Maybe Entrapta should bring Dak here next time. Some time away from Hordak might be good for them.”

Glimmer pursed her lips. She did not like the idea of Hordak’s spawn spending any amount of time in her Queendom. But she remained silent. As a clone of the original Hordak, Entrapta needed Dak close at hand for Hordak. At the very least, as an extra set of hands and prehensile hair in the lab, at the very most, a collection of spare organs and living blood should any of Hordak’s own body parts need replacing. Entrapta would not let the hybrid leave Dryl. Not unless Hordak was already out of the equation. 

“As I understand it, young Dak is also heir to Dryl.” Added Shadow Weaver. “It may be beneficial for the future heir to form connections and attachments to key members of the Alliance. That way, should the worst happen to Entrapta and Dak take over sovereignty of the territory, Dryl could be more easily persuaded back into the Alliance.” 

“Wait, what?” Scorpia blinked, unsure of what she was hearing. 

It sounded like double talk. Where a person said one thing but meant something else. Double talk was something that went on a lot in the upper ranks of the Horde, but to spite being a Force Captain, she never really quite caught on. It was one of the reasons why, after the portal fiasco left the Horde fractured and defeated, Scorpia did not make a bid to take back her own family’s Queendom. She was not suited to this kind of closes door, hushed tones, double meaning kind of leadership. She was a soldier. She was an Action Girl kind of leader. Let Lonnie keep the Fright Zone, she was already shaping up to be a better Queen –or ‘Commander’, as she called herself- than Scorpia ever could. 

But if something bad were going to happen to her friends, Scorpia wanted to know about it. Scorpia wanted to help. “What’s gonna happen to Entrapta? Dak’s just a child, they can’t rule a territory.”

“Frosta is a child and she rules the Queendom of Snows by herself.” Glimmer reminded the other woman. 

“Yeah, but Dak is…” She trailed off, unsure of how to explain. While Dak and Frosta resembled each other in age, they were not the same age. Frosta was eleven and three quarters when Scropia first met her, now she was twelve. She had twelve years of education and life experience to prepare her for a leadership role in charge of a territory. Dak, on the other hand was not even a year old yet. Baker was trying to educate them on what a future ruler needed to know, but there was a significant difference between a few months lessons and a whole decade’s lessons. 

“All the more reason for young Dak to come here.” Shadow Weaver insisted even though Scorpia hadn’t actually given a reason. 

“I don’t think this is something we should be discussing.” Bow cut in before any other arguments could be made. 

He fixed Shadow Weaver with a warning glare. He did not like her new status and position as the Queen’s advisor. He felt she proposed ideas and plans that went against the values of the Queendom, and he was concerned that Glimmer did not dismiss her suggestions outright. At least Micah was here. He, at least, could be a voice of reason and keep Shadow Weaver’s manipulations at bay. He had personal experience with Shadow Weaver’s manipulations. 

Taking one of Scorpia’s pincers in his hands, he led her out of the room. “C’mon, let’s go let Entrapta know she has the go-ahead to finish up the beams. Then maybe we can stop by the harbor and see Sea Hawk.”

Bow lead Scorpia out of the war room. 

Entrapta had a panel of Emily’s outer casing open, exposing the inner joint of her leg that got stuck often. She was adjusting the joint and adding some much needed lubricant. She did not look up from her work when Bow and Scorpia came up to her. “Hey, guys.”

“Bow says you’re good to go.” Scorpia flashed her a wide smile and the pincer-claw equivalent of a ‘thumbs up’ –which was basically just holding the pincer open and turned at an angle so that one point was pointed up. 

“Right. Good to go. What she said.” Bow added, because sometimes Entrapta didn’t understand why ‘so-and-so’ would have someone else say they said something when they were standing right there and could just as easily say it themselves. 

Communication was a funny thing and members of the Princess Alliance had a funny habit of just assuming other members of the Alliance understood them without actually making sure they were understood. In hindsight, this might have been one of the contributing factors for Entrapta defecting to the Horde in the first place. Not, -the- main factor, that was definitely leaving her behind in the Fright Zone. But her not understanding them, and them not being willing to work with her and adapt for her definitely also merited a spot on the list of ‘Reasons Entrapta Joined the Horde’. 

“Great!” Entrapta finished her adjustments to Emily and flipped the panel in the bot’s armor closed, locking it in place. Without another word to either of them, she got back to work on the particle beams. Narrating everything she did into a separate recorder that she planned to leave in Brightmoon when she was done so that if anything did go wrong or the equipment needed repairing, Bow –as the Alliance’s Tech Master- could fix the issue without needing to call her back from Dryl. Once this was done and she was able to return home, Entrapta planned to stay at home with her Lab Partner and their Intern. 

Exchanging a look between themselves, Scorpia and Bow shared a shrug before turning and heading down to the harbor. The Dragon’s Daughter Five was moored there, and had been moored there ever since he brought Micah back to Brightmoon. Since his break-up with Mermista he had no great desire to return to Salineas, and Seaworthy was losing its charm. But Brightmoon had a harbor where he could park his boat, he was already friends with the Queen, and now that he was the one that returned the long lost King (now Dowager-King) he was hailed as a hero. 

Sea Hawk was sitting on the taffrail, lighting matches, and flicking them into the water when they arrived. 

“You’re not gonna set your ship on fire again, are you?” Bow asked, equal parts joking banter and legitimate concern. 

“Huh?” The pirate blinked, almost as if he didn’t understand the comment. Then looked down at the box of matches in his hand as if only just realizing that he was holding it and an already lit match. “Oh. No. Not today. Maybe later.” Flicking the lit match into the water, he hopped off the taffrail. “Glimmer is looking to the skies for a new threat, while the old Horde is still out there licking their wounds in the Fright Zone. Who knows what’ll happen next? Adventure!”

“Well, I for one, have been enjoying this nice break between adventures.” Bow informed him. 

“Yeah, it’s been great!” Agreed Scorpia. “Not being sent all over the planet to get into fights with giant glowing sword ladies. It has been nice. Although, it would be nice if we weren’t constantly going between Brightmoon and Dryl.”

“But you’re almost done, right?” Sea Hawk asked. He sat back down on the taffrail, this time leaving enough room for Scorpia to sit down too. 

They had actually become rather good friends. Not just uneasy acquaintances that shared a common issue. But acrtual and true friends that understood each other’s struggles, could identify with, and offer sympathy and support from a place of experience that few others in their lives had. Scorpia was Entrapta’s best friend, but she might also be Sea Hawk’s best friend too. 

“I hope so.” She nodded, taking the offered space and sitting on the taffrail. 

Feeling suddenly awkward, Bow sucked in a breath between his teeth. “Well…” He cringed visibly. “Entrapta’s deal with Adora wasn’t for just Brightmoon. She said the Alliance. Frosta expects her to go to the Queendom of Snows and build weapons there next. Perfuma’s still in denial that it’s necessary since the Horde here has gone non-active without Hordak so she might not have to go Plumeria. But Mermista likes the idea of bigger weapons so she’s expecting Entrapta to come to her after she finishes with Frosta.”

Scorpia frowned. “That’s a lot of travel.”

“But I’m sure there’ll be time for her to stop in Dryl for a bit.” Bow was quick to assure her. After all, the deal was for Hordak. Entrapta bought Hordak’s life with her service to the Alliance. They couldn’t very well expect her to hold up her end of the bargain if she didn’t get to see him and… enjoy her purchase… Bow honestly had no idea what Entrapta and Hordak did together that made the Tech Princess place so much value on the monster. “Ya know, in the next meeting, I’ll make sure that it’s worked into the itinerary. So that Entrapta get’s some good quality time at home with Hordak! Glimmer and Adora will understand!”

Even if they didn’t understand Entrapta wanting to spend time with Hordak, they could at least understand it as a transaction. Entrapta was holding up her end. There was no reason to say she couldn’t go home and see her… special friend.

“How is Adora, by the way?” Asked Sea Hawk. “I’ve been in Brightmoon a while now, but I haven’t actually seen her around much.”

“She’s been spending more and more time at the Crystal Castle, actually.” Bow informed them. “She’s been trying to get Light Hope to tell her more about the connection between Etheria and Eternia. Now that we know Eternia is a planet and not some random password. If Horde Prime does open a portal to Etheria, maybe Etheria could also reconnect with Eternia and it could help us in the fight against Prime.”

“Ah.” Sea Hawk nodded as if that made perfect sense and he understood everything Bow just said. 

“Honestly,” began Scorpia, “I hope this Prime guy doesn’t show up at all.” 

“Me too.” Bow agreed. 

…

Adora heaved an exasperated snarl that petered out into an exhausted sigh. Sometimes Light Hope could just be so… Light Hope. 

“How. And. I. Use. The. Connection. Between. Etheria. And. Eternia. To. Defeat. The. Horde?” She repeated her question –even more clearly- for what felt like the millionth time. 

“Currently, Etheria is stranded in Despondos and is cut off from Eternia.” Light Hope repeated the same answer she had been repeating since Adora arrived at the Crystal Castle and started asking. “In order to reestablish connection, Etheria must be brought out of Despondos and returned to the Adarion System.”

Adora was ready to whip out the Sword of Protection and start swinging it at the hologram. 

“Adora?” Swift Wind ventured at her side, speaking softly so as not to turn her frustration on him. “Are you sure this is as pressing as you’re making it out to be? Are you sure you’re not deflecting in order to avoid… another issue…?”

“No!” Adora snapped. “There are no other issues I need to take care of! I’m Etheria’s protector. I’m trying to protect Etheria! What other issue could there possibly be that I need to deal with!?”

Swift Wind hesitated a beat longer. Then said, very, very gently, “Catra’s trial will be starting soon and… she’s been asking to see you.”

“Well, that’s not an issue because I don’t want to see her.” She snapped. 

He gave an equine sounding sigh. Sometimes, there was no reasoning with bipeds. Not even ones he had a spiritual connection with and could sense her feelings –even if she tried to deny those feelings herself. 

“Nothing good ever came from talking to Catra.” Adora insisted. “I don’t need to see her. What I do need, is to understand the connection between Etheria and Eternia. If my Sword is the Administrator Key to Etheria, is the also the Administrator Key to Eternia? What do the two planets do when they’re connected? If you need a Sword to open a portal, why is everyone so sure that Horde Prime can open his own portal?”

That, at least, was a good question. 

How was Horde Prime going to get to Etheria in the first place? If a portal could only be opened with a Runesword…?


	4. A Cut Through Space and Time

Horde Prime was rarely bothered with every little signal sent from every little unit in his army. The cloning crèches produced 45-thousand units per batch. Four batches every Standard Imperial Year, meant 180-thousand units a year. Personal signals from almost 200-thousand soldiers were mostly ignored. 

Horde Prime only listened to communications from four signals. 

The four clones he observed to be competent, resourceful, and clever enough to be useful in command positions. The four he personally promoted to his cabinet. 

So, when he received a signal from one he stripped from his cabinet, banished to the front lines, and was presumed dead, Prime paid attention. From the Adarion system. A single yellow star, orbited by three planets: Preternia, Infinita, and Eternia. Eternia was the world where Prime sent 66694-42-003:Hordak. To try and put down another uprising by that ever-annoying thorn, Randor, the self-proclaimed ‘King of Eternia’. 

66694-42-003 never returned from that deployment and Horde Prime assumed him killed in action. 

But here was a signal from that same KIA brother. Proof that he did not die in service to the great Horde Empire, as he was supposed to. And a distress signal no less, begging for aid, proof that Horde Prime was right to strip him of his rank and powers. He was weak. Useless. And now, a liability. 

A mistake had been made here, and mistakes must be corrected. 

Horde Prime analyzed the message personally. 

It was encrypted with an older code. One that was in use during the height of 66694-42-003’s cabinetcy, when Prime allowed him to be ‘Lord Hordak’. It made sense that 66694-42-003 would be using it. Removed so long from the Empire and his Brother, he wouldn’t know the more recent –more secure- encryptions. 

But that also meant that others could intercept the signal and decode it for themselves. After all, the reason they changed and updated their encryptions were to prevent a hostile faction from ever being able to break through their communications. 

If 66694-42-003’s message held any value beyond just the desperate call for help from a defective clone, Prime wanted to be the first to know. 

It was a short message. Cut off abruptly before a full debrief could be given. Apparently 66694-42-003 was inexplicably pulled into a shadow dimension from which he could not return on his own. He needed Prime to open a portal from his end and free 66694-42-003. Pathetic. There was also some pathetic attempt to appeal to Prime by attempting to conquer the world in the shadow dimension, but his progress was blocked by hostile natives with inexplicable powers, blah, blah, blah. Please send reinforcements. The natives had a champion with a magical sword that-

That that was where the message was cut off. The signal lost. Whatever ‘portal’ he was sending the transmission through snapped shut. 

Prime sat up straight. 

‘A champion with a magical sword that-‘

A champion with a magical sword.

A champion. 

Singular. 

One. 

Prime had gone up against champions with magical swords before. Two of them. Not one. One of them, he managed to defeat. Defeat and take the sword for himself. The other one… got away…

It was absurd to believe that defective and weak 66694-42-003 found the one that got away. Completely and utterly absurd. 

But the message did come from the Adarion System, the same solar system they came from. The same solar system… Zed died in… 

‘You said you could heal him!’

‘Anillis-! I’m sorry! He was too far gone.’

He tried to raze that system. But he was new at this back then. Inexperienced and angry. Clumsy. 

He managed to get He-Ro, and He-Ro’s sword. But, Mar- the other one –got away. 

Not just got away, but managed to take one of the planets from the Adarion System with her. The fourth planet –the name escaped him at the moment but he remembered it being there, then not being there anymore. 

It was utterly absurd to think that Hordak found the one that got away.

But the location was correct, and the description seemed to fit. 

Prime could not ignore this. 

If there was even the slightest chance that it led him to the one who got away. 

Tapping a button on the arm of his throne, Prime opened a paged the bridge of the Velvet Glove. “Change course.” He commanded. “Take us to the Adarion System.”

“Yes, Sir!” Came the answering voice almost immediately. Then, more hesitantly. “Which planet, Your Grace? Eternia?”

Eternia was the metaphorical ‘problem child’ of the Adarion System. It seemed like twice every generation there was a new rebellion that had to be put down. First Hiss, then Miro, then Randor, then Randor again, and then… the defector Randor’s brother seduced to their side…

Prime stood from his throne. Descending the stairs he retreated into his Inner Sanctum. His own private chambers above the Velvet Glove. 

Eternia was a frequent problem in the Adarion System, but 66694-42-003’s signal had not come from Eternia. It came from empty space. Between Eternia and Infinita, in the darkness where Etheria used to be. 

The one that got away…

Crossing the dimly lit room, Prime gentle, almost affectionately caressed the side of a tank. Not the same as the industrial vitrine used in his cloning crèches. This one was smaller, narrower, and did now bow out like the cloning tanks. This thank was not meant to grow a clone, but rather preserve a body. Prime kept it draped with a sheet. Most days he could not bear to look at it. But he never had it removed either. He could not bear to part with… what was inside. 

Through a gap in the fabric, the tip of a red wing could just barely be seen. 

Prime passed by this tank and continued on to the far wall. Considering the span of his unnaturally long life, Prime had not collected or kept many mementoes. Neither trophies or keepsakes. He kept the body in the tank, and he still strummed his baliset from time to time. But aside from those, his Inner Sanctum was markedly bare of personal items. 

He did, however, keep one trophy. 

The Sword. 

More accurately, a Sword.

One of two. 

Pulled from the cold, dead, hand of Gray. A Prince of Eternia and the one Chosen to wield the Sword of Power as He-Ro. Killed on the field of battle by Anillis Kur. But he was not the one Anillis wanted. He wanted the one that got away. 

The one that promised him she could save his son’s life. Heal all ailments and return Zed to the level of health he enjoyed before they left Revena. But she lied. She didn’t. The Sword did not heal him. Zed died. And when satisfaction was demanded, it was not She-Ra, but He-Ro that faced him in the open field. The other, choosing to flee, and take her planet with her. 

Prime didn’t just lose his son. He lost his vengeance. 

But not this time. 

66694-42-003:Hordak found her. Found her and left a signal for Prime to follow back to coordinates. Where Etheria used to be. And instructions on how to get to her. How to cut through the fabric of space and reality. Into the shadow dimension she cowered in. 

Cut through. 

With the blade of steel and light of a legendary Sword. 

Prime lifted the Sword of Power off the wall. Hefting it in his hands. Revenanti were very strong in proportion to their size. Every other race he came across was surprised and impressed by the deceptive physical strength of him and his clones. But the Sword always felt heavy in his hands. Heavier than its size would imply. Heavy as if its weight came from more than just the hammered metal of a blade and a gilded and Runestone fitted hilt.

It was the Power of this sword that allowed Prime to prolong his life. 

Now it was going to lead Prime to its twin. To the one that got away. 

…

Nobody really knew what to think when the night sky suddenly lit up with light. So bright it outshone Eternia’s two moons. Cutting across the sky. A blade of light. 

The first panic stricken thought was that it was some kind of Horde attack. That the Empire had grown weary of constantly putting down rebellion and decided to just destroy the planet and be done with it. 

But Horde Prime did not believe in superweapons. He preferred massive armies with lots of moving pieces. Small parts that could be easily replaced. If some lucky rebel made a shot down a superweapon’s exhaust port, the whole thing blew. But if some lucky rebel managed to kill a cabinet Lord, then he could just be replaced. 

So, the blade of light could not be a Horde attack. 

Some realized this faster than others. 

Some realized it had to be something else. Something more. 

The Lord of Snake Mountain saw the light and looked deeper. Looked for a source. After all, light had to come from somewhere, and this was not the light of Adarion, Eternia’s sun. Nor was it the sun’s light reflected off either of the moons. This was its own. Coming from a source that was not a star. 

And inside that light, was a signal. 

Encrypted, obviously. Not everyone would pick it up. Even if they did, they wouldn’t understand it. It was a Horde encryption, but an older one. Not in use anymore. So, not an official Imperial transmission. 

A distress signal. 

A cry for help.

Except clone troopers did not ask for help. Help was for the weak. 

But the identification stamp on the message gave him pause. The Lord of Snake Mountain re-running the decryption program and double checking his results in the Imperial issued datapad his late partner left with him. Both the second pass with the decryption and the secondary datapad confirmed the ID was correct –at least, not faked, or a mistranslation. Former cabinet Lord Hordak, serial number 66694-42-003. 

Running a palm over the smooth dome of his head, the Lord of Snake Mountain stared at those last three digits. Zero-Zero-Three. Hordak. 

Hode’s Zero-Zero-Three.

He only met the clone twice. Briefly each time. 

The first not long after Hode was killed. As highly as the older clone spoke of his younger brother, the Lord of Snake Mountain hoped to find a new ally. Hode’s protégé and heir. At least, that was what Hode lead him to believe. But what he met was just another clone trooper. A tool of Prime’s. There was the shadow of an intelligent mind capable of independent thought. But only a shadow. 

They crossed paths again after Hordak had been deposed from the cabinet. Stripped of his rank and name, returned back to only his serial number. Sent to the front lines of another one of Randor’s ill-fated revolts. He hoped to find Zero-Zero-Three of a different opinion then. Prime cast him out and sent him away. Surely the clone must have realized how little the Emperor cared for him, or any of his brothers. Prime called his clones ‘little brother’, but they weren’t much more than dolls to him. Playthings that could be thrown away the moment they were broken. 

Zero-Zero-Three did make his way to Snake Mountain, and the Lord did hope that Hode’s favorite might join him. Imp was certainly glad to see him. 

But they never got the chance to exchange words. Inexplicably, for reasons the Lord of Snake Mountain was still trying to find explanation for, Zero-Zero-Three was teleported away. A blade of light cutting through the very fabric of space and time and pulling Zero-Zero-Three, along with Imp, through the rift. 

He had hoped Zero-Zero-Three had learned his lesson. That Prime could not be trusted. That Prime had to be removed. 

But here he was, calling for his big Brother. Begging Prime to come get him. Take him back. Look, I conquered this world for you. Please come pick me up. And send reinforcements. The natives are making things difficult for me. They have this champion with a magical sword-

The Lord of Snake mountain was glad the message cut off there. When he was a younger man, he would have jumped up and been ready to rush off at the mere mention of a magical sword. But that was years ago. He was older now. Older and jaded. He made his grab for a magical sword, and in the process, lost his face. 

His face, his identity, and his partner. 

‘But- the sword-!’

‘But your life, Keldor!’

He wasn’t ‘Keldor’ anymore. Now he was the Lord of Snake Mountain, the Lord of Destruction, Revenant of Hate… Skeletor. 

Skeletor lacked the means of opening a portal and answering Zero-Zero-Three’s call. Only a Sword could open a portal and Skeletor did not have a Sword. 

But Prime did. 

Horde Prime could open a portal and bring Zero-Zero-Three back. 

If only Prime cared about Zero-Zero-Three enough to do that. But Prime cared about nothing and no one. He would not answer Zero-Zero-Three’s call. 

It was a moot issue. 

Nothing would ever come of it. 

…

The Velvet Glove came out of hyperspace just within the Adarion System. 

Prime hated this place. 

Any time any action was required in this despicable spit of space, he always found someone else to send. Hode. Or Hordak. Or, literally, anyone else. 

But he could not send anyone else for this. This required the Sword, and Prime was not going to let the Sword out of his sight. 

The Lycra Pant and Leather Vest appeared half a moment after the Velvet Glove, materializing from out of hyperspace. Prime had to come here to use the Sword, but that didn’t mean he planned to be the one to go down to the planet –a planet he hated- that’s what the clones were for. 

Standing on the bridge of the Velvet Glove, Prime watched Infinita, and Eternia pass by the main viewport. Neither planet was their destination. Their heading placed them in an empty space inside Adarion’s circumstellar habitable zone. Few knew it, Prime never included it in official Imperial records, but –originally- this system did not have three planets, but four. The fourth one vanished along with its guardian. But Prime still remembered its coordinates, its orbit within the system’s sphere of gravity. 

The bridge crew surreptitiously shot each other confused or uneasy glances. Those that worked closely with the Emperor –his private staff, his cabinet, and his bridge crew- knew that their Brother was prone to bouts of temper and impulses made in anger. 

But this did not seem like that. 

Moving the Velvet Glove and her complement of soldiers, along with the Lycra Pant with all her batwings and pilots, and the Leather Vest full of drop-ships and troops, to an empty bit of finite space where there was nothing there. Ignoring three other planets within the system, one of which was an almost never-ending source of work for the military. This was erratic and irrational. But not an episode of temper. 

In fact, Prime seemed very calm and collected. Deceptively so. Quiet. 

Holding non-standard issue sword in one hand. 

“Cut the engines.” He commanded suddenly. “Bring us to a stop here.”

His bouts and fits might make his staff and crew wary, but they were not incompetent. There was no hesitation. Even if they didn’t understand it, they were sure their Brother had his reasons for this erratic behavior. The main bridge pilot decelerated, switching to forward thruster to compensate for the direction of their motion in the zero-gravity space, and bringing the Velvet Glove to a full stop. The communications officer sent a signal to both the Lycra Pant and the Leather Vest to do the same. 

Within moments, the whole fleet came to a full stop in the middle of nowhere. 

Empty space floated in front of them.

“Charge the hyperdrive.” Was Prime’s next order. 

He lifted the Sword he held and crossed the space to a segment of the main command console. Forward, center. 

It was strange that Prime would move the fleet somewhere else immediately after bringing them to a full stop in the middle of nowhere. But when the Emperor commanded, they obeyed. 

“The new coordinates, Your Grace?” Asked the navigator. 

“No new coordinates.” Prime informed them. “Charge up the hyperdrive and funnel the dilithium into the forward canon.” 

The bridge crew of the Velvet Glove, Horde Prime’s hand chosen group of clones than ran his ship, never hesitated. But Horde Prime had never ordered them to funnel hot, active, charged dilithium from an active hyperdrive, into the ship’s weapons.

“Your… Grace…?”

Prime turned to the one that had spoken. Glowing eyes blazing a silent warning. How dare they question a direct order from him. He was more than their Big Brother. He was their creator. He made them in his own image. Gave them the gift of sentience so that they could better serve him. This job was to serve. Not to question. 

The one that spoke swallowed a lump of nerves. “Y-yes, Your Grace.”

Together, the Chief Engineer and Science Officer overrode the safeties and emergency shut-offs that prevented any leakage in the hyperdrive core. Engines and pistons groaning under the pressure and strain they were being put under. A choir of stressed equipment and hardware. Every console and screen on the command bridge lit up with alerts and warnings that the core was open, the hyperdrive was compromised, the dilithium was leaking, the forward cannon was being flooded by charged photons that could bend spacetime. 

Prime inserted the Sword into a slot on the console. 

All new alerts lit up across the screens. 

“Fire the forward canon along the trajectory of these coordinates.” He commanded. 

Uneasy as it made all of them, there was no hesitation again. Their Brother gave an order and he already made it clear that he did not appreciate his orders being questioned. 

The canon fire streaked across the empty space in front of the Velvet Glove. An energy and particle beam that was usually red in color was stained an uneasy mottle orange and yellow. Prime giggled the Sword in its slot, aligning it better with the non-Imperial tech rigged into the console. The stone of the hilt of the sword glowed, and the beam outside changed color again. Shifting from orange and yellow, to sickly green, then blue, then white. 

In space, if a beam did not impact with anything solid, it just kept going. Shooting through space until it finally did collide with something. 

But this one didn’t. 

It cut through the empty space, like cutting through fabric. Edges of darkness fraying like threads and peeling back, curling away from the cut like an overly tight knit. A tattered tare opening up in empty space. And through the tare was darkness. No stars. No planets. No light. Save one sphere. Orbited by several smaller moons. A planet. One single planet floating in otherwise empty despondent darkness. 

It had been centuries since Prime saw it last. But it was an image that was burned into the back of his mind. A place synonymous with the loss of this son. 

Etheria. 

Somewhere on that world was the one that got away. 

“Ground the dilithium.” Prime ordered. “Stabilize the rift. I want it to remain open.”

The Chief Engineer and Science Officer had to do some quick calculating and jerryrigging to fulfill their Brother’s command. But when the forward canon was shut down, the rift remained open. 

Everyone paused a moment. Staring at it. 

Did- did Horde Prime just break the universe and creature a portal to another world? 

“Open a hailing channel to the Leather Vest.” He commanded. “Red Hord is to take his ship and his forces to that planet, retrieve unit 66694-42-003, and if he finds an alien female that wields a legendary blade of light, bring her to me. I want her alive. I want her sword. And if there is anyone on that rock she cares about, I want them too.” 

Alive. So that he could kill them in front of her. So that She-Ra could know what it felt like to hold her most cherished person in her arms as the life drained out of them, and realize that there was nothing she could do. That the universe was cruel, and cold, and she was helpless. Hopeless.


	5. The Day Etheria Stood Still

Hordak was programmed to stand for a commanding officer whenever they entered a room. To be waiting for them, in formation and at the ready when they arrived on their flagship. In his current circumstances, as a refugee from the Fright Zone, deposed from command of the Horde, Entrapta held the higher rank. Princess of Dryl and sovereign of the territory he was currently residing in. In this scenario, Entrapta was his commanding officer. Dryl was her flagship. Hordak wanted to be standing at attention, waiting for her arrival home. 

But he could not find the entrance. 

Curse this labyrinth of corridors the locals dared to call a ‘castle’! There was no rhyme or reason to them. Hordak tried learning the layout. He tried marking the turns. He even tried making his own map. But it seemed like the layout changed semi-periodically. His marks inexplicably disappeared. And his map was useless by the next day. Hordak didn’t know how the mongrel got around without getting lost, but then, the mongrel was small and usually traveled through the air ducts and ventilation system. They probably did not have these problems. 

All Hordak knew was that Entrapta was already home by the time Hordak finally found her. 

Not in the entrance hall. He still wasn’t sure where that was anymore. 

But he did find the kitchens. 

Where Baker was just finishing up a pastry molded into the shape of a tiny creature with a pig-nose and bat ears. She looked up when he entered. It only took her half a glance to realize he was lost. She arranged the pastry creature on a tray held by one of Entrapta’s bots. 

“That one’s going to the lab.” She told him. 

Without saying anything, only offering a grunt as a ‘thank you’ Hordak left the kitchens and followed the bot. 

The twisting and winding path the bot lead him on was not the same rout the mongrel lead him on the last time he was escorted to the lab. And they passed that damn painting of the flerken with the over-large eyes twice before they came to a familiar hallway. Then, finally, the lab. 

The bot entered through a separate panel at floor level. 

Hordak entered the passcode Entrapta gave him. 

Thankfully, the door slid open without problem or incident. 

Entrapta was already inside, reviewing the data from the exo-suit. Catching herself up on his condition and prosthetics. 

“Oh. You made it.” She looked up at him with a smile. Happy to see him. 

She crossed the room, propelling herself on her hair. Arms spread wide. But she stopped short of hugging him. They did not touch. She was mindful of his condition which often gave him muscular pain, and he was unused to initiating physical contact –it was not a thing clones did. So they never touched each other directly. Only through Entrapta’s hair. 

Entrapta placed a lock of hair on his shoulder, giving the exo-suit an affectionate pat. “I missed you!”

Her smile was genuine, and infectious, and Hordak could not help but smile back. He missed her too. 

He just lacked the words to tell her. They stuck in his throat. Admitting that he missed her when she went to Brightmoon for a couple of months also meant admitting that he would miss her indefinitely when he returned to Prime’s side and she remained in Dryl. 

Instead he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Your clone preformed adequately in your absence. However, it is a relief having you returned.”

He placed his hand over the hair on his shoulder, intertwining his fingers between the strands. Hordak wasn’t used to physical contact, physical contact of affection least of all. He hoped he was doing it right. Entrapta did not pull her hair away immediately, and he decided to take that as a sign that he wasn’t doing it wrong. 

“Dak did great!” Entrapta beamed. Wrapping her hair around his whole body, she carried Hordak over to the main monitor. “I’ve been reviewing the data from your tune-ups and it looks like your exo-suit is performing at peak efficiency. We can now start physical training.”

To get him back to a level of warrior proficiency comparable to what he was before being stranded on Etheria. Hordak would never be able to be active without his armor again. Just performing daily tasks like basic hygiene was difficult without it as a mobility aid. His muscles would ache and he would get fatigued easily. With the armor, he could function as any normal person did, but to return to Horde Prime Hordak needed to function better than a normal person. He needed to function like a warrior-trained clone of the Emperor of the Known Universe. Bred from perfection to be a living weapon and extension of his will. For that –even with the armor- Hordak needed training. 

Hordak glanced around the lab. 

It was tight. An enclosed space. And full of sensitive equipment neither of them wanted to get damaged, chief among them, the First Ones medical array Entrapta took from the ship in the Crimson Waste. They could not perform any kind of physical conditioning or combat drilling in the lab. Did the Crypto Castle have a gymnasium of sorts? Some place he could train. Another place to get lost trying to find. 

Already holding him with her hair, Entrapta carried Hordak to the door of her lab. “Scorpia and Dak are already waiting for us in the courtyard.”

The door slid open and Hordak struggled to disentangle himself from her hair. By the Host, he was not about to allow her to carry him out into the courtyard where the remaining Horde that occupied Dryl could see him. The soldiers deployed in Dryl at the time of the portal’s opening were the only faction of the Horde here on Etheria that remained loyal to him. He was not about to shake that loyalty by appearing weak in front of them. And being carried in this tiny Princess’ magical hair definitely made him look weak. 

“I am able to walk under my own power.” He assured her. 

“Oh. Okay.” Entrapta let him down, feeling oddly rejected somehow. 

It wasn’t like she was trying to initiate any kind of intimacy at that moment. He was just already in her hair and they had to go to the same place. It didn’t occur to her that he might feel more comfortable moving himself rather than letter her carry him. Hordak was Entrapta’s very Special Friend, not her Best Friend, that was Scorpia. But her Special Friend. She felt as strongly for him as she did for Scorpia, but… in a different way. And she wanted to hold him. 

Not just with her hair –although, that was what was usually most comfortable for her- but with her arms too. The same way Scorpia hugged her when she came to rescue her from Beast Island. Both arms wrapped around, squeezing tightly, even… even bodies pressed together if that didn’t make him too uncomfortable. 

But, Entrapta was also mindful of his condition. The exo-suit she made for him allowed Hordak to function the same as any average person. But underneath that armor, he was not an average person. He was frail and delicate. His skin sensitive. Not in the same ‘tactile sensitivity and overstimulation’ sort of way she was sensitive, but in the ‘a carless tap on the shoulder could cause debilitating pain’ kind of sensitive. Not counting Hordak himself, no one was more keenly aware of that than Entrapta. She knew what it was like to be sensitive and did not want to stress his boundaries. 

So, why did Hordak wanting to walk on his own make her feel like he was walking away from her?

Because he still intended to go back to Horde Prime? To leave Dryl and leave her.

But that was always Hordak’s plan. Even before he started living in her Queendom. Back when they were in the Fright Zone building the portal in the first place. Nothing had changed. 

So, why did she feel like everything had changed?

“It’s this way.” Entrapta pointed with her hair when she noticed Hordak was walking the wrong way to the courtyard. 

Hordak suppressed a growl, letting out a hmph instead. “Nothing makes sense in this blasted place.”

Entrapta decided to let that comment go. It was her predecessor who designed the Crypto Castle, and Ensnarea made it intentionally difficult to navigate. Entrapta grew up here, she was well into her adulthood now, almost thirty, and she still sometimes needed the tracker app on her datapad to navigate her way around. 

Outside the sky was gray and overcast. Dryl was prone to poor weather. Storms and lightning. An overcast day with heavy but calm cloud cover was actually a ‘nice day’ by Dryllish standards. 

It took Hordak a few moments to get used to the natural light, after being in nothing but the dimness of the Crypto Castle for months. Blinking his nictitating membranes, squinting the second set of eyelids until his eyes adjusted. 

The center of the courtyard was taken up by a unit of Horde soldier, being put through their drills by the Territory Captain. It had been months since She-Ra and her rebel companion kidnapped Dak –whom for all they knew at the time was Lord Hordak’s heir- and the Captain was not going to soon forget. She was determined that her forces would never allow a repeat of the occurrence. They were soldiers of the Horde, loyal to Lord Hordak, living in the territory of Lord Hordak’s chosen consort, the Princess Entrapta. They would not allow Hordak and Entrapta’s heir to be taken a second time. The Captain was almost fanatical in her training of those that were under her command. 

Seeing Lord Hordak walking with his Princess, the Captain snapped to attention and offered a respectful bow. “My Lord, my Princess.” Then, snapped at her soldiers. “Attention! Salute your Lord!”

The company she was drilling performed similar motions. Snapping to attention, backs straight, shoulders tight, tails –of they had them- peaked. Then they bowed, humbling themselves for their Lord and his consort. 

Hordak gave a hmph of satisfaction. 

“Wow, you guys are so in sync!” Entrapta beamed at the company. 

“Thank you, Princess.” Nodded the Captain. “I have been working hard with them. Rest assured that no harm will ever come to you or your… or the younger Lord Hordak again.”

“That’s great!” Entrapta smiled at the other woman. “And I’ll be upgrading your weapons before I leave for Salineas.”

Startled, Hordak glanced at her. She would be leaving again? To build more weapons for his enemies. In Salineas this time. But he thought the deal was only for Brightmoon. She was done in Brightmoon. Why was she going to another Princess’ territory so soon after she just got back? Hordak didn’t want her to go. 

But in front of one of their subordinates was not the time or place to confront her about it. As sovereign Princess of Dryl and Lord of the Horde, they had to appear unified and of one mind in front of their subordinates. 

Instead of asking Entrapta about it, he chose to remind her why they came out here in the first place. “Princess, you did mention that Force Captain Scorpia was awaiting us.”

“Huh? Oh! Right!” She offered a wave to the Territory Captain. “It was good seeing you Batting. I’ll get around to your equipment once I’m done with this grumpy-gus.” She pointed to Hordak with a tendril of hair. 

The Territory Captain, Batting, didn’t know what to say to that, so she only saluted again. Only Lord Hordak’s lover could get away with calling his a ‘grumpy-gus’ practically to his face. Batting tried her best not to react. She tried really, really hard. 

As Entrapta said, Dak was with Scropia. 

They were off to the side, in a corner of the courtyard that was shadowed by the side of the mountain. 

Scorpia had a bucket of what looked like many different colored calks next to her, and was handing them to Dak, whom was using them to draw on the ground. 

“That looks great, Dak!” Scorpia was saying. “But, uh, what is it?”

As they drew closer, Hordak was able to peer over the backs of the crouched pair and see that the mongrel had drawn a hexagon and a pentagon with a shared side. A single line was protruding out from the hexagon, and another line that was bent in two places extended from the pentagon. Clearly, the hybrid was drawing some kind of chemical chain. 

“You said I should draw something that makes me happy.” The mongrel reminded Scorpia. They labeled the line protruding from the hexagon HO, and the bent line extending from the pentagon NH2. “So, I drew serotonin.”

Hordak could not help the snort that escaped him. A very nasal, very wet sounding snort. Prime would have been mortified. But Prime wasn’t here. Scorpia instructed the creature to draw something that made them happy and they drew the chemical that –literally- caused beings to experience happiness. Hordak still did not like the mongrel, but they did like the creature’s sense of humor when it was not at his own expense. 

Scorpia sucked in a breath between her teeth. “Well… I mean… that’s not wrong…” She seemed to be having trouble finding the word to explain to this child what she had meant. “Look what I drew.” She pointed to an entirely different chalk drawing. Sloppy, and childish. But still just recognizable as two figures. One rendered in red chalk with a scorpion tail, the other outlines in purple with many pink tentacles like snakes coming out of the head. The chalk figures appeared to be holding hands, and the words ‘Super Pal Duo’ was written over them in an arch. “This is the time I rescued your mom from Beast Island and she called me her Best Friend.”

Unconsciously, Hordak reached a hand out to run his fingers through Entrapta’s hair. He should have been the one to rescue her. At least, he felt he should. But Hordak did not learn that she had been sent to Beast Island until she was already rescued. 

In response to his touch, strands of hair intertwined themselves with his fingers. Gently stroking and reassuring. He might feel like he had failed her somehow, but Entrapta harbored no such feelings. She was just happy he was with her. 

It gave him a pang of an entirely different, but even more uncomfortable feeling when he remembered that he would be leaving her as soon as Horde Prime arrived. Leaver her, and not coming back. 

But at least Entrapta would still have Scorpia as a companion. Her ‘Super Pal’ and Best Friend. Scorpia would take care of her. Besides, the mongrel would stay here too. Hordak would not take that hybrid thing back to the Velvet Glove and present it to Prime as a brother. Dak, or Hordak Second of the Name, was not a brother. He didn’t know what the creature was, really. But it was not his brother. 

“That is exactly what a chain of serotonin looks like!” Entrapta nodded at the hybrid’s drawing. Satisfied with her clone’s work. 

Dak offered their mother a hesitant smile. Entrapta’s approval and validation was what they craved most in this world. 

“I hope you’re not too tired for our next experiment.” Entrapta continued. 

Dak practically catapulted to their feet. “No. I’m ready.”

Hordak looked between the two of them, momentarily confused. “Now that you are returned, there is no need for the clone’s continued involvement.”

Except maybe for consistency of care, so that the mongrel could remain up-to-date and aware of his condition and progression. But Hordak was not about to admit that out loud. The hybrid made him uncomfortable and he did not want to admit that there might be a practical reason for continuing to allow the hybrid to be… on his maintenance team. 

“Oh, Dak’s gonna be my Control for your vitals.” Entrapta explained, bouncing excitedly on her hair. “They’re not the same physical age as you, and they’re a hybrid with my own DNA, so they’re not perfectly analogous to you, but they’re the best thing I have to compare you to in terms of physiology. Dak is the closest approximation of a ‘healthy Prime clone’. So, Dak is gonna be doing exercises along side you.”

Hordak’s lips curled in a sneer of displeasure. 

But he could not argue with her logic. When Entrapta first designed the clone, and yes, ‘designed’ was accurate. She went into his DNA and took out all the corrupted segments of code, filling in the gaps with her own healthy Etherian DNA. Dak was carefully crafted to be healthy. Not a perfect clone. But a perfectly healthy organism. 

From her hair, Entrapta produced sterile gel, suction cups, and sensor nodes. 

Using the sterile gel and suction cups, Entrapta fitted two of the sensor nodes to the sides of Hordak’s head, lifting herself up on her hair to compensate for their dramatic difference in height. She was mindful of his scar tissue which made the skin uneven. They looked worse than they were, the synthetic skin the First Ones medical tech knitted into Hordak’s real skin to close the wounds was the wrong color and stood out, a bold violet against the white of his face and the dark blue-gray of his neck. But the scratched Catra dealt him in that fight –even miraculously healed using seemingly magically advanced tech- still left the skin uneven and Entrapta had to work around them to get the suction cups to stick. 

For his neck, she plugged the sensory nodes directly into the ports there. Same with the ports on his sides, she plugged the sensors directly into those too. 

Dak applied their own sensors. Sticking them to the temples of their head, their neck, and their sides. Using their hair instead of their hands –which were covered in chalk and not sterile- the cobalt blue tendrils making sure they were even and secure. 

With a bit of a sigh, Scorpia began packing up the colored chalks. At least she got Dak to play a little bit.

Entrapta ushered the clones back into the center of the courtyard. 

The soldiers weren’t quite finished with their drills yet, but Captain Batting quickly made them clear the field. Whatever project their Lord and his consort were working on was obviously more important than making sure the garrison kept up their discipline as a single military unit. (Besides, Batting wanted to watch whatever was about to happen. She saw so little of the sovereign family interacting together. She would be lying if she didn’t admit she was curios.) 

Hordak was uneasy about preforming in front of his only remaining soldiers. He was keenly aware of his physical limitations and of the fact that he was nowhere near as capable and strong a warrior as he used to be. He did not want to appear weak in front of his subordinates. Fear of betrayal and usurption aside, they were the only followers he had left. He did not want to lose the last and only Horde garrison he commanded because he so weak, even when compared to a literal child. 

“We’re just gonna start with a few warm-ups to get your bodies read and establish a baseline.” Entrapta explained. “Just some simple stretches and light activity to loosen-up your muscles and get your blood flowing.”

Standing side-by-side with the mongrel, a double arms’ length apart, Hordak allowed Entrapta to guide him and the hybrid through lunges, tow-touches, jumping-jacks, and a little light running place. 

Soldiers snickers behind the face shield of their helmets, or –if their heads were uncovered- hid smiles behind their hands. None of them had ever seen Lord Hordak appear so… normal before. Warming up for a drill. Like he was one of them. A soldier just like any other. And he was training with his heir. Just like a real dad (not that any of them really knew what a ‘real dad’ was supposed to be like). But it was still so cute!

All the while, Entrapta was studying their stats on her datapad, the screen split in half, one side displaying Hordak’s vitals, the other Dak’s. 

She had them break for water before diving into the combat drills. 

It was not all that different from the drills the garrison had just been practicing. Beginning with basic hand-to-hand kata, first going through the motions on their own, the two clones performing identical actions side-by-side. Then, after several sets, facing off and putting the combat motions into action in a mock battle against each other. 

Dak was younger than Hordak. Lighter and faster on their feet. With healthy muscle tissues giving more strength to their limbs. However, Dak had barely been in one fight before, and didn’t actually know what they were doing. Hordak was older and more experienced. He had faced quick and spry opponents before and survived to learn from the experience. He was a seasoned warrior and knew how to handle himself –limitations and all- in a fight. 

For the most part they were evenly matched. 

Until Hordak over-extended himself. Dak did a backflip –on their hair- to evade the attack. And Hordak fell flat on his face. 

The watching soldiers could not hide their amusement this time. Nothing was funnier than watching the terrifying and imposing Lord of the Horde do a face plant while trying to train his child. 

Enraged, Hordak threw all manners of a polite spar aside and snarled at the mongrel. How dare they humiliate him like that!

Dak only grinned back. Flashing those razor sharp but pearly white teeth, as if goading the older clone. “Sorry,” they said, not sounding apologetic at all, “Old Man.”

There was a chorus of ‘Oo~oh’s from the spectators.

“Brat!” He growled back. In the peak of his health, Hordak could jump from a moving drop-ship, take out a small contingent of enemies, vault off a building roof, break through windows, and maneuver is close quarters combat. He was not going to allow this composite creature that hadn’t even been alive a year yet to humiliate him in a public forum!

Recollecting himself, adjusting his stance, Hordak assumed the defensive, waiting for the younger and quicker clone to come to him. Hordak didn’t have to beat the mongrel outright. He just had to let the dumb child tire themself out in order to win. 

And ‘dumb child’ was right. Dak didn’t even hesitate to take the bait. Bouncing on their prehensile hair, the hybrid leapt into the air, coming down from above Hordak, hands with talons outstretched. 

Hordak casually, almost lazily side stepped the clumsy and overly-showy attack. Dak would have smashed skull-first into the hard stones of the courtyard were it not for the quick reflexes of youth. They swung their hair around in front of their face, coiling it like a living blue cushion to pad their fall. Then transitioned into a sort of summersault to land on their feet. 

Lowering his defensive stance, Hordak melted into a dignified parade rest. Turing one half-quarter to the side, he smirked sideways at the mongrel. Just to make sure the creature understood how insignificant it truly was to him. 

The hybrid took the action as the taunt it was meant to be. Teeth bared in a growl of frustration, hair frizzing out like Entrapta’s often did when she over-excited. They ran at Hordak, attempting to slash at the older clone with their talons. 

After facing off against a skilled and season opponent like Catra, young and naïve little Dak was nothing. Hordak barely had to break his rest to dodge. Only moving his feet. Arms still folded behind his back. Expression military neutral. It only took a few passes for the mongrel’s frustration to transform into outright anger. 

“This is supposed to be a fight, Old Man!” They shouted. 

Hordak smirked at them. “I am waiting for you to begin.”

That was the last straw that broke the back of the mongrel’s control. They did not quite have Hordak’s temper. They were not quick to anger. They could put up with Hordak’s quiet scorn and not-so-subtle distain. When it was just the two of them it was easy to stay calm. When it was just the two of them it didn’t matter. But when Mother was home… When Mother was watching them… When Hordak was making them look back in front of Mother… That was what set Dak off. Dak wanted nothing more than for Mother to love them. 

Hair still frizzy, the tendrils and strands fanned outwards, haloing the mongrel in a semi-circle of cobalt-blue tentacles. Hordak would be lying if he didn’t admit it was a little intimidating. 

He didn’t let any of it show on his face, however. Hordak, Lord of the Third Division, General on Horde Prime’s ruling cabinet, did not get intimidated by mongrel children. 

Dak rushed him, running forward with the same speed as before. Hordak side-stepped them easily. But then the hybrid crouched down and lashed out with their hair, coiling two tentacles around one of the older clone’s ankles. It one solid jerk of the prehensile hair, Dak pulled Hordak off his feed, dropping him flat on his backside. 

There was another exclamation of ‘Oo~oh!’ from the watching soldiers. 

“That’s enough.” Entrapta called. 

From his position on the ground, Hordak kicked up, just barely missing the mongrel’s face. If the move had connected, the metal toe-plate of his boot would have smashed into Dak’s chin. 

Jumping back, the hybrid just barely managed to dodge the blow. 

Hordak too the opportunity to leap back to his feet. 

Dak lashed at him with their hair again. This time going high. For the face. 

Raising an armored arm to block the blow, Hordak allowed the plating of his exo-suit to absorb the force of the hit, then grabbed the tendril of hair and yanked. Hard. Pulling the hybrid off balance, causing the mongrel to stumble as they winced in pain at having their hair pulled. 

“Ow! Ow, ow, ow!” Dak exclaimed. 

“I said that’s enough.” Entrapta repeated. 

“A real opponent will do much worse than this.” Hordak informed them. How could the natives of this planet honestly believe that this soft, under-developed child-creature was his ‘heir’? They were no soldier. They weren’t even the kind of sparkling and gentle looking but surprisingly formidable kind of clumsy-fighter the Princesses of the Alliance was. The mongrel was… more like a Horde cadet. A child the Etherian Horde took in and trained. Young and stupid. But full of potential. 

The mongrel only growled at him. They pulled the strand of hair, but Hordak did not let go of his hold. 

“He’s right, ya know!” Someone called from the soldiers that gathered as spectators. 

“Listen to your father.” Shouted another. “He knows what he’s talking about!”

Hordak bristled, uncomfortable at being called the mongrel’s ‘father’. The clones of Horde Prime had no fathers. The clones of Horde Prime had no children. The clones of Horde Prime were all brothers. 

“Hey, if your hair is cut, it is like losing an arm?” Asked another. This question went unanswered. 

Dak yanked their hair again, pulling harder this time. Pulling hard enough to make the taller and top heavier clone to stumble off balance. Mid-trip, another tentacle of hair lunged out. This this time. With more force. It struck Hordak in the stomach. 

Hordak let go of the hair he was holding. Spitting and gasping. 

“Stop!” Entrapta appeared between them. Wrapping both in her own hair, she forced the two clones apart. “As big as your ears are, you should be better at listening. Both of you.”

The watching soldiers heaved identical groans of disappointment. They were enjoying the show. 

Placing herself between Dak and Hordak, she turned to the latter and held up her datapad. “Look at your blood pressure! The suit is not regulating it the way it should. And that gut-punch just now didn’t do you any favors either.” She turned the datapad back to herself and began scrolling through all the information the device was telling her. Muttering about adjustments and upgrades. About extending the exoskeleton to cover his chest and middle-mass. 

As she spoke, Hordak took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. He had not risen to the killing edge. The mongrel was not a big enough threat for that. Not had they made him mad enough to push him to that edge. But Hordak was not as young as he used to be and active combat was not as easy as it once was. Now that he was no longer moving and adrenaline was no longer pumping through his veins, Hordak realized that he was… tired. His muscles under his exo-suit were already sore. His middle-mass most of all. The mongrel’s hair was very strong. 

But he could not afford to appear weak in front of his soldiers. 

Hordak melted his stance back into a rest. “I shall respect your concerns and end combat training for the day, Princess.” 

There was a soft chorus of ‘Aww’ from the soldiers around them. One soldier wrapped her arm around another, the two women cuddling closer. Hordak might be a looming, formidable, terrifying military Lord, but he loved his consort. It was so sweet! 

Their doe-eyed, adoring faces, and soft smiles made him uncomfortable. Hordak turned and walked back to the double doors of the main entrance into the Crypto Castle. Quickly realized that he would be lost the moment he got inside, and paused. Turning to look back at where Entrapta was still standing with the mongrel, he held out his arm. A gesture he understood meant he was offering to escort her inside. He hoped it did not make him seem vulnerable and afraid of going back into the castle alone –which he was. 

“You can play outside some more if you want.” Entrapta informed the hybrid. “Scorpia tells me children should play. Come back to the Lab when you’re ready and we can go over your data together.”

“Yes, Mother.” Dak demurred. 

She crossed the courtyard, moving on her hair, and took Hordak’s offered arm. 

The crowd gave a second ‘Aww’ as the couple went inside together.

Entrapta waited until the double doors were shut behind them before remarking, “I think I’ll also add a navigation feature to the exo-suit. So you won’t get lost inside the castle. Not that I mind escorting your around. But I know you like… to go your own way...”

Hordak’s lip curled, feeling inexplicably uncomfortable. It felt almost like she wasn’t talking about his wanting independence while living in the nightmare labyrinth she called a ‘castle’ and more about… his impending departure when Prime finally came to collect him. 

“I will always appreciate the things you do for me.” He informed her. Not knowing what he needed to say. 

“Thanks.” Entrapta replied. “I will always appreciate you- -your friendship.” She twiddled her hair, looking off to the side to avoid eye-contact, cheeks a slightly pinker shade than was normal. “Out of everyone I’ve met on Etheria –Scorpia included- you are the one I- …work best with.”

A lump formed in Hordak’s throat and he found himself having to swallow a feeling he was unfamiliar with. “Your work is without equal.”

If he thought –even for just a moment- that Horde Prime would welcome Entrapta, Hordak would take her with him. In a heartbeat. 

“Thanks.” 

Entrapta looked uneasy for a moment, as if question a decision she was about to make. She raised herself up on her hair, so that their faces were on an equal level. Leaning forward slightly to close the distance between them. Her mouth parted slightly. 

Hordak had no idea what her intensions were. He had never seen Entrapta behave this way before. 

But whatever she was about to do, they were both distracted by shouting outside. 

They both turned. 

Hordak pushed the double doors open. 

At first, they were both confused. Nothing seemed out of place in the courtyard. Everyone was still standing exactly where they were a minute ago when they left. Except now everyone was all tuned, staring in the same direction. Faces tilting up. Staring gape-mouthed, horror struck, and confused at the sky. 

Following their gaze, Entrapta and Hordak looked up. 

A strange light cut across the sky, shining brighter than the moons. A diagonal slash. The edges of which seemed to fray and peel back, like fabric torn and tattered. As if the very air itself was physically cut with a blade. A blade of light rather than steel. A rift opening. 

The gaping Etherians were right to be afraid. They didn’t know what this was. They had never seen anything like it before. 

Admittedly, Hordak had never seen it before either. But he knew what it was. He was expecting this. 

Horde Prime got his message. 

Horde Prime was coming.


	6. The Confusion Before the Storm

“What in the ever loving high holy heck does Adora think she’s doing now!?” Lonnie demanded of the open sky. 

She, Kyle, and Rogelio were inspecting construction of the new supply storage bunkers when the sky suddenly and inexplicably cracked open with a light so bright it cut though the perpetual smog layer that blanketed the Fright Zone. Lonnie glared at it, the shape slightly distorted by the haze. But it looked like a cut across the sky. A cut like with a magic sword. So, of course, it had to be Adora and her new friends. After all, what else could it be? 

“We do have a way of communicating with Brightmoon, right?” She asked of her companions. “That wasn’t destroyed when Catra and Hordak decided it was a fun idea to blow-up central command, right?”

Both human and reptilian only shrugged. They honestly had no idea. After the portal fiasco when all of the Horde’s upper leadership disappeared, the trio’s focus had been on damage control and reestablishing some kind of infrastructure. Lonnie –whom took over the vacant position as Leader of the Horde- was more concerned with maintaining supply lines that brought grain and rice into the Fright Zone, the things their ration bars were made from. Their food. The stuff they needed to survive. None of them really gave much thought to the equipment that would allow them to put in a call to their enemies. 

“I, uh, I can check.” Kyle volunteered. 

He rushed off to do exactly what he said he could do. 

Rogelio growled something that Lonnie didn’t quite understand. But when the reptilian dashed off after Kyle, she assumed he said that he was going to make sure Kyle didn’t hurt himself in the –still destroyed- Sanctum. 

Though neither man could see the action, Lonnie nodded. Kyle was well-meaning and always eager to help. But he was also clumsy and not very mindful. Rogelio would keep him from carelessly injuring himself. Which was good. One less injury meant fewer medical supplies that had to be used. And now that she found herself in command, Lonnie was all about cutting down on needless supply usage and waste. 

She turned her attention back to the bunkers she was inspecting. 

“Well, show me the new vacuum seals that are supposed to keep vermin out of the food stores.” She commanded the soldier that had been showing her and the other two around the newly constructed bunkers. “We can’t just drop everything we’re doing every time there’s a big light in the sky, or a rainbow knocks over a tank, or a Princess seduces your boss’ boss, or the central command blows up.” She reminded them. “We all still have jobs to do!”

Making their way through the Fright Zone, back to the central command building, Kyle was still getting used to people stopping and saluting him. 

Just a few months ago, he, Rogelio, and Lonnie were all still just ‘cadets’. But, dang!, did a lot happen in those few months! Catra set off a portal in Hordak’s Sanctum, then disappeared along with Lord Hordak himself, there was a short disagreement between the remaining Force Captains and Lonnie about who should fill the newly vacated leadership position, and –somehow- Lonnie ended up on top. The Commander of the Horde. And as her best friends and teammates since forever, Kyle and Rogelio became her lieutenants. 

Where Kyle used to have to be the one to stand to the side and salute if another soldier was walking in the opposite direction than him, now it was the other soldiers that would move out of his way. Flattening themselves against a wall, standing at attention, offering a well-practiced salute. Sometimes even going so far as to say ‘Morning, Lieutenant.’ 

This had been going on for months now and Kyle still wasn’t used to it. He didn’t know if he’d ever really get used to it. He spent so much of his life so far as metaphorical dirt. He was used to being walked on. He didn’t know if he could ever be the one doing the walking. 

Rogelio took his hand and Kyle’s heart jumped for an entirely different reason. 

But all the reptilian was doing was bringing to the other man’s attention that they passed the entrance to Hordak’s Sanctum. Kyle was so caught up in reflecting on his new elevation in the Horde, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going and passed their destination. 

“Right. Sorry.” He demurred. He had to remind himself that he might be a Lieutenant working directly under the new leader of the Horde now, but he was still just the same old Kyle. Absentminded and probably useless. Lonnie only made him a Lieutenant because they were friends. 

Inside the Sanctum was mostly bare. 

After the initial explosion, the lab and surrounding chambers had been searched for bodies. But the actual clean-up of the Sanctum hadn’t happened until much later. Cleaning up Hordak’s mess wasn’t really a priority. But Lonnie was also practical and not in the habit of leaving usable resources to collect dust just to spite the guy they used to belong to. The Sanctum was cleared out and cleaned up. Anything that wasn’t bolted down got taken out, sorted and repurposed. Scrap metal was melted down, tech that still worked and served a function was repaired and placed back into circulation, tech that was beyond repair and unusable was taken apart and its pieces cannibalized for other machines. The floor was swept and the area was closed off. 

Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio were the only three in the Fright Zone who knew the new passcodes to get in. 

Anything that wasn’t bolted down was cleared out, but there were still a lot of things bolted down. Chief among them, the main monitor display and corresponding computer terminal. If anything had a feature that could get a call through to Brightmoon, it would be this computer array. 

Kyle switched it on. 

There was a loud humming sound as it booted up, and an uncomfortable scraping sound that implied the inner workers of the computer might not be in as good condition as the exterior would imply. 

Kyle chanced a glance at Rogelio to see if the other man might somehow blame him if the device failed. 

But reptilian only shrugged his shoulders. Who knew how well any of the crap in Hordak’s Sanctum ever worked in the first place? The guy never really let anyone else in here except his pet Princess, and look how that turned out. 

Once the computer was finally booted up and the homescreen appeared –with a few lines going through it to indicate the screen was damaged- Kyle found the communications application easily enough. There was a short delay as the computer dialed Brightmoon. The tech the Rebellion used was not from the same origin as Horde tech and the two were not perfectly compatible. It took a moment for the devices to connect to one another. 

The image of Bow appeared on the screen. The device they connected with must have been his Tracker Pad which scanned for incoming signals anyone. He was talking to someone off screen, his head turned so that Kyle and Rogelio only saw him in profile. 

“…hang on, my Tracker Pad is picking something up.” He was saying. Then turned to actually look at the screen, and saw that it was just Kyle and Rogelio from the Horde. “Oh! It’s you guys. Now’s not really a good time. Can we put off any new declarations of war for a while?”

Rogelio growled something that nobody understood but Kyle got the distinct impression that the reptilian was commenting on the other man’s assumption that this was a war declaration. 

“No-no, it’s nothing like that!” Kyle assured him. “Lonnie just wanted us to call and see what it was Adora was doing this time. Ya see, this bright light just appeared in the sky, and it looks kinda like a cut, like with a magic sword. And Adora’s the only one we know of with a magic sword so… you see where I’m going with this?”

Why did Kyle feel so awkward? Was it because had hadn’t been in a command position long and didn’t know how to talk to people and command respect? Or was it because he was unfit for a command position at all? At least when he was a grunt cadet, he knew his place and where he stood –with enemies as well as allies. Now, as a Lieutenant with responsibilities, he felt so out of place he wasn’t sure he even had a place anymore. He certainly had no idea how he was supposed to talk to the Rebellion’s Tech Master. 

“Don’t worry about that.” Bow tried to assure them, sounding much more like he was trying to assure himself. “We’ve got it handled.”

His tone implied that they did not have it –whatever ‘it’ was- handled. 

Bow ended the call. 

Kyle and Rogelio looked at each other. Just as confused now as they were when the cut of light first appeared in the sky. Bow hadn’t actually given them an explanation as to what it was or what was really going on. That was all Lonnie wanted to know. 

“Should we call them back and ask to speak to Adora this time?” He asked. 

Rogelio only shrugged. He was also a little unsure as to what to do in his new leadership role.

…

Everyone in Brightmoon was in one stage or another of freaking out. 

They all knew this was coming. They all knew Horde Prime was coming. 

Entrapta had warned them. Catra had taunted them. Heck! Even Light Hope kinda alluded to this coming, no in so many words, but more in that cryptic and open to interpretation way she did. The fact of the matter was, no one should have been surprised. 

Except that no one really believed it would happen this fast. This soon. It took Hordak years –decades, actually- to build a working portal. What reason did they have to assume that Horde Prime could get one working, open, and stable in just a few short months? 

It was lucky that Entrapta already finished the weapons she promised. But she had only just finished the ones for Brightmoon. Salineas, Plumeria, and the Queendom of Snows were still unprotected. No to mention all the other territories and Queendoms on the planet. 

Micah had met people from Fallen Star Mountain, the territory ruled by the Star Sisters and invited them to join the Alliance. They said that with Hordak defeated there wasn’t a reason to anymore. They were unprotected and unprepared. Sweet Bee and Peekablue sent their reply in the same message, one piece of paper bearing both their seals –apparently, the two Queens were together at the time- it was written in Peekablue’s handwriting and simply said ‘the timing isn’t right yet’. Well, was the timing right now? Now that the other Horde from outer space had ripped open their sky and was poised to drop down on them at any moment!

Needless to say, things in Brightmoon were a little anxious. 

Perfuma was the first to show up at the palace. Plumeria sharing a border with Brightmoon on the opposite side from the mountains of Dryl, her’s was the closest Queendom to Brightmoon. She appeared, flower crown askew, pink dress rumpled, without her teal green shrug over her shoulders. As if she’d left in a rush. 

“Is it the Horde?” She demanded. “I mean, of course it’s the Horde. But, like, the other Horde. The bigger one. The one we’ve been trying to prepare for.” She took a deep breath, attempting to force herself to calm down. “I mean, we’ve been prepared for this, so everything will be okay. We have the She-Ra on our side. I’m sure everything will come to a harmonious conclusion. There’s no need to give into negative energy.”

She said this. But Perfuma was definitely giving off negative energy. The negative energy of fear, anxiety, and doubt. She was giving off negative energy in buckets. 

Speaking of buckets, not long after Perfuma arrived, a giant wave crashed through the Brightmoon harbor, nearly capsizing Sea Hawk’s ship. He was already bailing buckets of the excess water off the deck when the wave receded, revealing Mermista. She was holding her trident, and look more impatient and annoyed than fearful and concerned. 

“Ugh… the Geek Princess hasn’t even been by to build my weapons yet.” She groaned at no one in particular, brushing an errant lock of hair out of her face. “Can’t the evil space emperor wait, like, six more month before coming to try and kill us all. So stupid.” Then she noticed the Dragon’s Daughter Five listing in the bay. “Oh. Hey, Sea Hawk.”

Sea Hawk gave a non-committal grunt in reply. They hadn’t exactly spoken socially since their breakup was official. He honestly didn’t know how to talk to her anymore. Certainly, he couldn’t talk to her like he used to. 

Frosta was the farthest away and the last to arrive. 

Everyone was already in the War Room when the youngest member of the Princess Alliance arrived. 

Micah was arguing with Shadow Weavers. Adora was shouting warnings over the table. Spinnerella was holding Nettossa’s hand to try and calm the other woman. Bow was fiddling with his Tracker Pad trying to see if the device could analyze the sky rift. Perfuma was trying to perform a calming chant. Memista was groaning at how chaotic this was. And Sea Hawk was ringing saltwater out of his socks. Glimmer had no control over her War Room, or the meeting. 

Then Frosta barged in. Doors banging open with a sound loud enough to make everyone pause. Stopping their squabbles or shouts to look across the room at the child-Princess. 

“Alright! So, what’s the plan for kicking these bat-faced jerks butts!?”

The room exploded back into noise and chaos again. Everyone talking at once. Giving opinions of things they were not informed enough to give opinions on. 

Bow’s Tracker Pad beeped with an alert just as someone asked him a question. Thinking the device had found some information for him about the rift, he turned his attention to it. “…hang on, my Tracker Pad is picking something up.”

Those seated closes to him quieted down to also see what the Tracker Pad had found. 

But all that appeared on the screen were the faces of two Horde soldiers. The Etherian Horde. A human, Kyle, and a reptilian, Rogelio. People they knew. Not the new Horde from outer space. There were not bat-faced monsters that looked like Hordak giving them a call. 

“Oh! It’s you guys. Now’s not really a good time. Can we put off any new declarations of war for a while?” Bow asked, assuming that even under new leadership the Etherian Horde would want to continue the generations old feud. 

“No-no, it’s nothing like that!” Kyle assured him. “Lonnie just wanted us to call and see what it was Adora was doing this time. Ya see, this bright light just appeared in the sky, and it looks kinda like a cut, like with a magic sword. And Adora’s the only one we know of with a magic sword so… you see where I’m going with this?”

Oh. Had no one read-in the new Horde leadership about what was coming? Did they honestly not know? Bow never even considered that! In a room full of chaos was not the time to debrief someone new. Especially not someone that Bow wasn’t sure which side they would choose. He didn’t want to be helping and clueing in a new enemy. While he did generally try to give people the benefit of the doubt and see the best in people, now was not the time to be the better man. Sometimes, the practical man had to be a bit rude. 

“Don’t worry about that.” Bow tried to assure them, sounding much more like he was trying to assure himself. “We’ve got it handled.”

He ended the call. 

“Who was that?” Asked Sea Hawk. He hung his still wet socks over the back of his seat and sat down next to Bow. 

“That was… the Horde…” Bow answered truthfully. Then, when everyone looked horror stuck, he quickly rushed to explain. “I mean, our Horde. The Etherian Horde! The guys in the Fright Zone. Kyle, and Rogelio, I think are their names. Nobody ever told them what was going on, so they have no idea what’s coming. They saw the portal in the sky and freaked out.”

“Oh.” Said Glimmer. 

There was a beat. 

Then Perfuma suggested, “Should we… invite them to join us?” Even as she asked this, she did not seem very secure in the idea. “I mean, do you think they’d be willing to help? They live on Etheria too…”

“We have no reason to assume they won’t join Horde Prime the moment they learn of him.” Shadow Weaver informed the room. “Inviting them into the Alliance would be like inviting a wolf to your back.”

“I’m sure that was true when Hordak was in charge.” Micah argued. It was hard to tell if he was arguing for the Horde because he honestly and truly felt the Etherian Horde could be helpful, or just to take an opposing opinion from Shadow Weaver. “But Hordak has been removed from power and is under house arrest in Dryl. Command of the Etherian Horde is now in the hands of Etherians. As Princess Perfuma said, they live here too, why wouldn’t they want to defend the Home Ground?”

“Because they were raised by Hordak and Hordak does not teach altruism.” Shadow Weaver reminded everyone. Never mind the fact that Hordak didn’t raise any of the Fright Zone orphans, and that job was actually delegated to Shadow Weaver herself. A fact Adora could confirm for them all. 

Adora might even have done so and called Shadow Weaver out on her misplacement of responsibility, had she not be lost in thought at that moment. Really considering the possibility of the Etherian Horde as allies. She grew up with them. She, better than anyone in the room, understood them. In a deeper and more intimate way than Shadow Weaver did. 

“Lonnie’s in charge now.” She began, still considering and weighing outcomes as she spoke. “She’s very practical… If we can convince her that working with us is the better choice over siding with Horde Prime…” 

She did not get to finish that thought, however, as Bow’s tracker pad beeped again with another message. This time, when he answered it, it wasn’t the nervous and unsure faces of Kyle and Rogelio. It was the exasperated and angry face of none other than Lonnie, Commander of the Horde, herself. 

“Put. Adora. On. The. Line.” She commanded before any pleasantries could be exchanged. 

Adora took the Tracker Pad from Bow. “Hey, Lonnie, we were just talking about-“

“What in the ever loving high holy heck are you doing this time!?” Lonnie cut the other woman off. “Haven’t you had enough of meddling with forces beyond mortal understanding and breaking the universe!? I am still trying to rebuild what Hordak and Catra ran into the ground and you’re cutting up the sky for fun! Now I have a panic to deal with on top of construction delays and lost supply shipments! I thought all you shimmering Princesses wanted was ‘peace’! Can’t I have a moment’s peace to work on my own territory!”

She paused for breath. 

Adora looked back at the rest of the Princess Alliance to make sure they heard the Commander of the Etherian Horde’s rant. She wanted peace, and she wanted to repair the damage to the Fright Zone, the damage to ‘her Territory’. Lonnie might be ‘Commander of the Horde’, but she was thinking like a Princess. 

“I’m sending Kyle over there to see what you’re all really up to!” Lonnie continued before anyone else could speak. “I’m sending Kyle because he is the least threatening person I know and hopefully that will keep you sparkleheads from shooting glitter at him on sight. Think of him as a sort of ‘emissary’. I don’t want to have to fight you guys again if I don’t have to! But, I swear, if you keep making things difficult for me, I will! So, let’s try and get along.”

She ended the call. 

Adora passed the Tracker Pad back to Bow. “So… I guess that answers the question of which side she’ll be on if it comes to it.”

“How?” Frosta jumped up, standing on her seat to be better seen. “She said she didn’t wanna fight us because she’s still licking her wounds in the Fright Zone. We don’t know that the moment Prime shows up she won’t go running to him the moment she realizes he’s got bigger guns and more resources to share with her.”

“That’s assuming Horde Prime is the type to share.” Mermista countered. “There is another angle to this. Regardless of what Lonnie things of the bigger Horde, the bigger Horde might not think much of Lonnie and just sweep her away. They might get rid of her for us and then the question of what to do about the Etherian Horde becomes a non-issue.”

“That’s terrible!” Perfuma was horrified. “Sure, they’ve been our enemies for as long as I can remember. But they’re still people, and living things. All life is precious.”

“They’re still the ones who ruined Princess Prom!” Frosta shouted. 

Everyone assumed she was trying to make a point about respecting truces, cease-fires, and safe spaces –all of which Princess Prom was supposed to be- and that if they couldn’t do that, what reason did they have to trust them in a truce now. But all it sounded like was that she was saying parties were just as important as leaving beings. For fear of derailing the conversation into an unnecessary ethical debate, everyone collectively agreed to ignore that comment. 

“There’s no point debating this until the Horde’s emissary gets here.” Glimmer announced, taking control of the meeting. She was Queen, but most of the time she still felt like an inexperienced and frustrated rebel child. 

“I know Kyle.” Adora added. “He won’t make trouble while he’s here.” A pause. “On purpose. He won’t make trouble on purpose.” 

But ‘trouble’ did have a propensity to just happen around him. It wasn’t that Kyle was particularly clumsy, forgetful, or rude. No more than any other child soldier raised in the Horde. He just seemed… out of place no matter where he went. Almost like… almost like he wasn’t meant to be on Etheria. Of course, Etheria being trapped in an isolated shadow dimension, she couldn’t image where else he could belong. But then, she’d seen weirder things than just an out-of-place and accident-prone soldier. 

The debate might have gone on longer, but a page entered the War Room, unannounced, and passed a letter to Glimmer. “Message from Fallen Star Mountain, my Queen.”

Taking the envelope, Glimmer ripped it open to read the contents. Then she sighed. “It’s from the Star Sisters. They also wanna know what the light in the sky is.”

No sooner had she read that, than another page came in with more messages from Elberon, Seaworthy, Erelandia… Heck! They even got a crumpled and dirty piece of paper from the Valley of the Lost in the Crimson Waste. Apparently, the whole planet saw the rift in the sky and wanted to know what the Princess Alliance was up to now… 

Glimmer slumped in her seat, putting a hand to her head where she felt an on-coming stress headache. Who knew the worst part of Horde Prime’s attack would be the confusion before the storm?


	7. Enter Red Hord

A holo-screen, no larger than a standard issue datapad was projected from the armrest of Red Hord’s throne. It should have displayed readouts of the rift. Projecting energy readings from the special anomaly, radiation levels, temperatures, gravitational forces if it had any. Instead, the display was taken up entirely by the face of Hordwing. 

“Maintain communications as you pass through.” He was saying. 

Red Hord only rested his chin on his fist and allowed his fellow cabinet Lord to voice his concerns as if they were advice from a senior colleague. They couldn’t show it, not in front of brothers of lower rank, but Hordwing was worried about him. Hordwing didn’t want him to go to a shadow dimension they knew next to nothing about that had already trapped one of their brothers since his disappearance. 

But, their Emperor, no, their Brother, had ordered Red Hord to go, so he must go. 

That did not mean that Hordwing had to be happy about it. 

“And be sure to send a signal through the rift every six hours so that the rest of the fleet can monitor your progress.”

“Out of curiosity, if the rift snapped shut behind me and I was trapped in there with Hordak, what could you do?” Red asked him. Equal parts annoyed by the other man’s hovering, and genuinely wanting to know what Wing thought he could do. 

Hordwing only frowned at him. 

Red Hord smirked back. He liked pointing out to the older man when he was being absurd. It made for a fun dynamic to their relationship. 

“Just keep the com open for me.” He growled. Then, in a softer tone, so that only Red Hord could hear, he repeated. “For me, Red.”

With a sigh, Red Hord did leave the com channel open. He leaned back in his throne. “Helm, take us through the rift. We might all go to join the Host, let’s not arrive there an embarrassment.” 

“When we go to the Host we’ll go together, Red.” Wing reminded him. “You’re not allowed to die without me.”

“You’re not allowed to choose when I die, Wing.” Red hissed back, keeping his voice down so that none of his own crew could hear him. “Only our Brother may choose when we die.”

Every single screen on the bridge –discounting the one Lord Hordwing was on- displayed the rift. From all different angles. Allowing for wide shots of its complete length and width, with measurements on its size, to close up images where one could see the small details of the fabric of space torn and tattered like actual fabric. Threads and strands of reality irradiated and glowing, drifting on the fluctuations of power that held the rift open. 

As the Leather Vest drew closer, the readouts changed to data on their ship. Course heading, hull integrity, radiation shielding. Several alerts climbed into the yellow as they drew nearer. When the nose of the ship passed through, everything went to read. Temperature rising, hull plates heating, radiation shielding weakening. A few of Red’s bridge crew looked back at their Lord, silently asking for permission to turn back. 

But, Prime ordered them into the breach. So, into the breach they would go. Come high water or the All High Host. 

“Continue on heading.” He commanded. 

“What is it?” Demanded Hordwing over the com. He could hear the alerts over the channel, but was not at an angle where he could see anything on the bridge. “What’s wrong.”

“Nothing I imagine isn’t perfectly normal for passing between dimensions.” Red Hord growled. It was kinda nice that Hordwing wanted to maintain radio contact and make sure Red was okay. But did he really have to be so annoying about it? Red Hord wasn’t a hatchling fresh out of the tank! He was a Lord, promoted by Horde Prime himself same as Hordwing. He didn’t need one of his older brothers looking out for him. 

The ship gave a shudder as it passed all the way through the rift. 

Hordwing’s image on the com screen went fuzzy for a moment. His voice breaking up. “You alri- -Red? –Respond- -what- -appened, Red Hor-?”

The bridge crew scrambled to assess any possible damages. Hull integrity, atmosphere leakage, nitrogen levels. Anything that could indicate fatal damage to the ship. Everything came back just within acceptable limits. A little high. Definitely undress stress and definitely close to the border between ‘Acceptable’ and ‘Danger’. But still just the right side of acceptable. Whatever Prime did with his magic sword to open the rift and ground it so that it stayed open, he also grounded it to make it safe for his forces to pass through. 

Red tried adjusting the frequency of his com to try and get a clearer channel out to Hordwing. “All systems normal.” He informed the other man tersely. “I shall message the Emperor with an update within the next six hours.”

“And me, too, Red.” Wing added, voice a low whisper again. “You’ll message me too, right?”

“As the situation allows.” He nodded to the other Lord. Then switched off the com. Then to his helmsman, “We’re through. Put us in a stationary orbit over the planet, then do a scan for 66694-42-003’s signal.”

Damn Zero-Zero-Three. The idiot couldn’t just fuck-off happily to the middle of nowhere. No. He just had to rip open a pimple in time and space to wave at Horde Prime. ‘Hello, Brother! I live! Come find me!’ Damn idiot. 

And Hordwing’s –for lack of a better descriptor- clingy behavior was due in part to Zero-Zero-Three. 

Red Hord and Hordwing always had an interesting dynamic from the first moment Red was named and promoted to the cabinet. They were very close in age, only one batch apart, but from different crèches. Wing rose through the ranks of the First Division and Red through the Second, so they never actually met face to face until his promotion. They worked together well, easily. Red Hord did not have so easy a time whenever he had to work collaboratively with Hordren or even Hode –and Hode was, in part, the reason he was promoted in the first place! 

Then Hode turned traitor. 

Wing and Red were there aboard the Velvet Glove when Hode and his Gar partner tried to steal the Sword. Wing was one of the ones that held him down when Prime chopped off his head. Wing was one of the few that got to hear the last thing Hode said to Prime before he died. A statement that shook Wing to his core. 

Wing didn’t get the opportunity to process, however, because almost immediately, Hode was replaced by Zero-Zero-Three, whom was named Hordak. 

Hordak was also close in age to Red Hord –three batches apart- they did not develop the same kind of easy working relationship that Red enjoyed with Wing. But they did work well together. They might have worked better together if Hordak knew more about Hode. Red so desperately wanted to tell him more about Hode. To confide what he knew to another brother. 

Red couldn’t talk to Hordwing, he used to be a wing pilot before he was promoted and pilots had no filter. They talked too much and didn’t know what not to say. Red Hord could not talk to Hordwing. Hordak had been Hode’s favorite. He would have liked to talk to Hordak, but Hode never clued the younger clone into what he was doing. Hode intentionally kept Hordak ignorant. In hindsight, that ignorance was probably what, not only saved Hordak from being executed along with the rest of Hode’s Force Captains, but also allowed him to be promoted to the cabinet. 

But then Hordak fainted in a strategy meeting and was immediately stripped of his rank and banished to the front lines. 

Red remembered Wing suddenly grabbing his hand and squeezing harder than was necessary when they watched Prime wrap his hand around Hordak’s neck and lift their little brother gasping and wheezing from the floor. 

Wing held down one brother while Prime cut his head off, then watched a second brother be lifted in a choke-hold before being cast out. Maybe Wing was the brother he should really tell about Hode. But Wing was also an idiot. A different kind of idiot from Hordak, but still an idiot was an idiot. 

After Hordak’s –Zero-Zero-Three’s- banishment, that was when Wing started with the whole, ‘when we go to join the All High Host, we go together’ bullshit. He watched Prime banish one cabinet Lord, a brother of equal rank to his own, for having issues that were the fault of the cloning facility and not the brother’s himself. And he watched Prime kill another brother, also a cabinet Lord, but one with seniority, who has served Prime for years! 

Somehow, he got it into his head that either he or Red Hord were going to be next. That the first time either one of them failed, Prime was going to kill them on the spot. Wing did not want to be apart from Red, he had grown very attached to his brother. So, if they were to go to the Host, he wanted them to go together. At the same time. 

Red almost rolled his eyes at the thought. Wing didn’t get it. If a brother was executed by Horde Prime, they did not go to join the Host. Traitors and weaklings were unfit to fill the ranks of the Host. Traitors and weaklings did not get an afterlife. 

After Hode was unceremoniously executed, Red abandoned him. Abandoned his ideas and his Plan. Moved on. Took everything he knew –really knew- about the older brother and locked in a box. Away, deep in the back of his mind where he didn’t have to think about it. His loyalty returning to where it belonged, to where it always should have been. To Prime. His Brother. Brother to all. 

It was stupid anyway. Hode turned out to be an idiot. Only an idiot could think to supplant the Emperor of the Known Universe. That was what happened when you let an alien fuck you in the cloaca. It fucked up your brain too. If Hode hadn’t crawled into bed with that Gar from Eternia none of this would have happened. Zero-Zero-Three never would have ascended to the cabinet, and by extension never been banished, and Red Hord wouldn’t be commanding his ship through a terrifying rift in the very fabric of space to a shadow dimension to collect the idiot for Prime. 

Sometimes, Red did wonder how things would be different if Hode had succeeded. What kind of Horde Prime would Lord Hode have been?

…

Four-Zero-Eight looked at the droplets of dark purple blood. Hearing the drip louder than it actually was. Hearing a pounding in his ears. His arms shook with just the effort of holding himself up and his vision swam. For half a moment, his mind failed to register what his Lord was saying. 

“You stupid, worthless, incompetent, failure!” Lord Horrin was snarling, saliva spraying from his mouth as he spoke. He was so angry.

He kicked Four-Zero-Eight in the side and the younger clone went tumbling across the hanger floor. What were they doing in the hangar again? Was this even the hangar of the Wool Cardigan? Oh. Right. They were abourd the Vinyl Hood. Lord Hode had to save Horrin’s strike force from a mission gone bad. 

“The rebels took Nordor because of you!” Looking around the hanger, Lord Horrin lifted a crowbar that had been left out next to a batwing in mid-repair. 

Vision swimming, Four-Zero-Eight barely register his Lord raising the crowbar over his head. He closed his eyes, preemptively wincing at the pain he knew was coming. 

But the blow didn’t come. 

“That’s enough!”

Four-Zero-Eight opened his eyes, vision still blurred. It took his brain longer than he felt it should have to understand what he was seeing. At first, he thought he must have been saved by a shadow. A figure of darkness grabbing Horrin’s wrist, holding back the blow. But that was insane. Shadows didn’t move like figures. Staring at them, breathing hard, Four-Zero-Eight blinked his nictitating eyelids until his vision cleared enough for the scene to make sense. 

It wasn’t a shadow. It was a cape. Long, and black, and hooded. The hood drawn low over the head so that the face was all in shadow. The only thing visible, the crimson glow of his eyes. Lord Hode. Lord of the Third Division, and commander of the Vinyl Hood, the ship they were currently on. Lord Hode stayed Horrin’s hand. 

“This is not how you educate a Force Captain that has failed you.” Hode said, voice issuing from the shadows of the hood, sounding as deep and dark as the shadows themselves. Hode had the same voice they all had, Horde Prime’s voice, but –somehow- Hode knew how to manipulate his tone and pitch so make himself sound so different when he wanted to. Hode looked down at Four-Zero-Eight, noting just how severe his injuries were. “This is not how you execute one for failure either.”

Horrin pulled his arm out of the other Lord’s hold. “You do not get to dictate to me how I deal with my own Force Captains, you Old Ghoul!”

“But I do get to dictate what goes on, on my own ship.” Hode replied calmly. “And I dictate that brothers are not to be bludgeoned with crude tools on my hangar floor.” It looked like Horrin was about to respond, but Hode cut him off before he could. “If your Force Captain failed to take the rebel stronghold of Nordor, perhaps it is because you –his superior- did not adequately prepare him for the mission.”

“How dare you-!” Horrin turned to fully face the other Lord. 

“How dare you!” Hode snapped back, raising his voice only to match Horrin’s. “You fail in the mission our Brother chose to honor you with. You needed me to save you. Then you come into my ship and get blood all over my hangar blaming a subordinate for your own failure as a commander!” Hode snapped his fingers. “Lord Horrin is tired from his ordeal, Zero-Zero-Three, show him to an officer’s stateroom so he may rest.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Four-Zero-Eight blinked blurry eyes as a still pillar wearing a dress and a Force Captain’s badge stepped forward to politely escort Lord Horrin out of the hangar. 

Hode bent down in front of him, the only thing in focus. 

Taloned fingers gently brushed hair out of his face, examining his wounds. “He really did a number on you, little brother.”

Four-Zero-Eight had to spit blood out of his mouth before he could speak. “I am grateful to my Lord Horrin for taking the time to teach me this lesson.” 

The words sounded robotic and insincere, even to his own ears. But working in the Second Division under Lord Horrin had thought him what to say and when to say it. Even when he was half delirious. He knew how to get by. He knew how to survive. It was how he was able to rise to become a Force Captain in the first place. Not because he was the best, most skilled, or most competent. It was because he knew how to play their game. 

Those glowing red eyes blinked at him from under the darkness of the hood. His response impressing Lord Hode somehow. “My, my, Four-Zero-Eight, you just might be wasted under a Lord like him.”

…

“Lord Red Hord,” a bridge officer pulled him from his reminiscing, “orbit is stable and we have located a signal consistent with 66694-42-003’s. Your orders, sir?”

Red stood from his throne. “Our Emperor wants his little brother returned to him. Let’s go pick him up.”


	8. Just... Before Good-Byes...

Hordak was even more motivated in his training than before. Now that he knew Prime had not only gotten his message, but was coming for him. He trained harder and more diligently than he had in a very, very long time. He felt almost like a hatchling again. Fresh out of the tank and going through the Basic that conditioned his physical body to be able to support the programming he already received in gestation. 

He was invigorated and optimistic!

Running a course devised by Scorpia and set up by Entrapta. There was no worry of getting lost, the path was marked with violet tape that was hard to miss in the natural light of the outside, and glowed under black light along the indoor portions of the course. 

It was not an ‘obstacle’ course in the sense that there were no obstacles that came out of nowhere to block their path. Entrpata did not program any of her bots to attack them while they ran the course. No logs sung at them from the side to smash them against the walls, no boulders came rolling down the corridors to crush them. There were no active traps, attacks, or anything that could be called an opponent. However, that did not mean it was a course without obstacles. 

The rout went all through out the Crypto Castle. The ‘obstacles’ were the architecture itself. 

A climb up to another floor that did not have any stairs or lift access. A narrow passage that let out into a sheer drop several, several meters above the courtyard outside. A jump from the open passage to one of the Horde’s flagpoles. Balancing on the ramparts of the wall that ran the perimeter. Shimmying around the Dryl Orb (Entrapta was very emphatic in her directions not to touch the Dryl Orb). Over the catwalk to the cliff. Down to the roof. Following the course marker back into the castle. Finally ending in the lab. 

Hordak wasn’t even short of breath when he completed the course. His training was going well, and under Entrapta’s care his health was better too. He felt like a young clone again. 

“This is great!” Entrapta smiles at him, twirling on her hair. She did a summersault on her hair, propelling herself to the main console of the lab’s computer, she pulled up a large display of the data from his armor. “Your heart rate, blood pressure, and, respiratory functions are all within an acceptable and healthy range for the level of activity.”

“I do not feel tired.” Hordak informed her. He was smiling. He was smiling so much he could feel it on his face. 

“Your performance was great!” Added Entrapta, she enjoyed watching him run jump and climb all over her castle. If only he could do it without printed help and without getting lost. 

“Too bad you got a loser time.” Dak cut in, hanging from the ceiling. Not-so-subtly placing themself between their Mother and Hordak. 

Hordak only narrowed his eyes at the upstart interloper, not understanding the comment. “Explain.”

In answer, the hybrid lowered a tendril of hair and punched in a few keys on the console. The screen was split between the two of them. Displaying their picture, their physical stats, and, also, in what time they completed the obstacle course. Dak completed the course two minutes faster than Hordak did. 

“You’re slow.” The mongrel smirked at him. “Old man.”

Hordak didn’t care that the hybrid kept calling him ‘Old Man’. Compared to the composite clone, whom was only six months old, Hordak was old. The part that he took issue with was being called ‘slow’ and ‘loser’. How dare they! 

“We shall run the course again.” Hordak announced. 

Entrapta blinked at them both, glancing from one to the other, not quite sure what was going on between the two of them. “But there’s no need to run the course again. I already got all the data I need.”

“I was not pushing myself the first time.” Hordak announced, not taking his eyes off the clone. 

“Well, I suppose seeing how the new modifications hold up under stress is important.” Entrapta had to admit, tapping her chin with her hair, looking up in thought. “But I don’t wanna push you too hard. The point of all these test and modifications are to give you more range and ability, not overtax your body to the point where you cause new damage.”

Hanging upside-down, Dak smirked at him. 

“We shall run the course again.” Hordak repeated. 

“Okay. If you’re sure…” Entrapta did not sound sure. But she pressed a button on the console array anyway. “Scorpia, they wanna run the course again. Don’t pull up the tape just yet.”

“Oh, uh, um…” Came back the awkward mumbling of former-Force Captain Scorpia. “I’ve already pulled half of it up.”

“That is fine.” Hordak announced, raising his voice to make sure he was heard over the channel. The castle could not have changed that much in the time since this morning. “Leave what is left of the rout and return to the lab to assist Entrapta.”

“Yes, sir!” There was the sound of Scorpia dropping something with a muted THUMP, presumably a sizable ball of the violet tape that marked their course. “I’m on my way.”

Hordak strode to the entrance of the lab. 

Dak hopped down from the ceiling and sprinted after him. “Wait! If it’s a race we have to start at the same time! Those are the rules.”

They caught up to Hordak at the door and both clones tried to exit at the same time, inevitably getting stuck. 

Hordak growled, low and deep in the back of his throat, displaying his crimson teeth. Dak only snarled back, displaying razor sharp but white fangs of their own. 

“Move, you insufferable mongrel.” Hordak commanded in the same tone he used on his subordinates back when he still ruled the Fright Zone. 

“I’m trying, but your stupid geriatric bulk is in the way, Old Man.” Dak shot back.

Behind them Entrapta waved her hair frantically. “Stop struggling and fighting each other and you can both fit through the door.”

“See. Even Mother thinks you’re being stupid.” Dak taunted. 

Hordak growled again. “Entrapta was clearly talking to you, mongrel.”

Dak rolled their eyes. 

That was about the time Scorpia came up to the lab entrance. “Oh, hey guys, are you doing a bit?”

Hordak snarled at her next. Barring his sharp crimson teeth. 

“Oh, you’re stuck.” She nodded, suddenly understanding. As if she saw this sort of thing all the time. As if this were a common occurrence within the Horde and Scorpia –as a Force Captain- had to deal with it all the time. She took Dak by the hand and began to pull. “I don’t understand why they don’t just make doors bigger. I mean, I’m just one person and I have trouble fitting alone.”

There was the sound of Dak’s clothing pulling against Hordak’s armor. After a bit of a strain, the two clones finally popped out of the door. 

Hordak took a moment to straighten his gown, then assumed a disciplined rest, trying to reclaim some of his lost dignity. He didn’t know what it was about this place, or these people. But ever since he came to live in the Crypto Castle- scratch that, ever since he met Princess Entrapta, Hordak had found himself in undignified positions more often than he liked to admit. Nothing like this ever happened to him when he was serving the Horde Empire. Not when he was a freshly hatched clone, not when he was a sub-Commander, not when he was a Force Captain. Certainly, never when he was a cabinet Lord! (Except that one time he collapsed during a strategy meeting and was cast out.)

He tilted his eyes up to the dim ceiling. There were no windows in this part of the castle, he could not see the rift in the sky. But it was there. Any day now an emissary of Horde Prime, or perhaps even Prime himself! would arrive to collect him and bring him back to the Empire. Where he belonged. 

“Ready, Old Man?” The mongrel’s taunting brought his attention back to the here and now. They shifted into a partial lunge, presumably as a more efficient launching pose to take off running from. 

“Oh, right, you’re running the course again.” Scorpia moved out of the way. Then noted the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder, Dak looking like they were about to take off running at the drop of a pin. “Oh, are you doing it like a race this time? You want me to give you a starting count? Three… two… one. Go!”

Hordak placed his hand on Dak’s shoulder and pushed the younger clone back a few centimeters while he went sprinting down the corridor. 

“That’s cheating!” The younger one called after him as they rushed to catch up. 

The two clones raced through the halls. The violet tape marking the path was already gone for this first stretch, from the lab, but Hordak liked to think he knew his way well enough to navigate the castle. It was a different rout than the previous two used to get to the lab on previous days. But it couldn’t have changed in less than an hour. 

Through the corridor that lead away from Entrapta’s lab. All the way until it led to an indoor deck with no railing. Below the deck, he could see an untouched segment of the violet tape glowing in the black lights of the castle. So, he knew he hadn’t gotten himself lost yet. 

“Too scared to jump, Old Man?” He heard the mongrel only a moment before the hybrid creature pushed past him and stepped off the ledge. Extending a tendril of hair down, like an absurdly long spider leg. 

Hordak was not scared. He had to take jumps carefully because of his condition, that did not mean he was scared of them. He was cautious. There was a difference. But he was programmed and physically conditioned to be able to jump from much, much higher than just from one floor to another. Hordak leapt off the platform, bending his knees to absorb the impact and placing a hand on the floor for balance. An academy-perfect three-point landing, just like they taught him in Basic. 

He and the mongrel landed at the same time. 

Hordak took off running, following the violet tape. The path got a little convoluted from here and he was glad for the guide. Down another corridor. One left turn. Three rights –yet somehow he did not cross his own path. Then another left. Into a narrow passage with natural light at the end. He remembered this passage from the first run of the course. The tunnel dumped him out into a sheer drop into the courtyard –and certain death- if he didn’t take the exit with a jump. 

The occupying Horde forces erected a flag just barely within reach of the passage. The flagpole was marked with the same violet tape to indicate it as the intended next set in the obstacle course. 

Putting more speed into his run, Hordak launched himself from the passage, arms and talons thrown out in front of him to grab onto the flag bearing the Horde insignia wafting in the mountain breeze. His talons tore the fabric ever so slightly and he felt himself slip down more than he intended. But he made it to the pole. 

The mongrel was already sliding down the shaft. 

“I do this all the time.” They informed the older clone. “This is how I escaped the castle with Adora and Bow.”

He growled wordlessly at the reminder that this mongrel –and Entrapta- were allies with She-Ra and her band of rebels that destroyed his Sanctum and deposed him from control of the Fright Zone. But that was just another reason why he had to beat this composite creature. To prove that he could hold his own against his enemies and his enemies’ allies. His enemies’ allies and younger clones. 

The flagpole deposited them in the courtyard. More of the tape was missing here. Probably pulled up by Captain Batting so as not to distract her soldiers. That was okay. The courtyard, unlike the interior of the castle, did not change. Hordak remembered the course from this point. He shoved the younger clone back again before taking off sprinting for the next part of the course. 

“Stop doing that!” Dak shouted after him. 

Across the courtyard to the main defensive wall. 

Up the wall. 

By way of a narrow service ladder. Entrapta did not expect either Hordak or Dak to climb a bare stone wall. Their talons were sharp, but not ‘claw marks in solid stone’ sharp. 

Dak was already at the top of the wall when Hordak climbed up. They could scale the wall with their hair. If the two of them ever had the opportunity to run the course again before he left to return to Prime, Hordak would suggest Entrapta instruct the mongrel that they could not use their hair. 

He ran along the top of the wall, desperate to catch up to –and overtake- and hybrid. He would not get a ‘loser time’ or come in second. He was a clone of the great Horde Prime, Emperor of the Known Universe, the most perfect being in existence. He did not lose to mongrel children who were still fresh out of the tank, never had any formal training, and didn’t know a damn thing about the universe! 

Around almost the full circumference of the outer wall. Running up the slope of the main gate’s arch slowed him down a bit and Hordak was even more frustrated to witness the mongrel use their hair to spring board clear over the arch. Putting yet more distance between them. 

The brat even had the gall to turn their head and smirk at him.

Hordak snarled wordlessly and put on an extra burst of speed. He did have the advantage of limbs that could be used as built-in launching platforms. But the apex of the arch did give him a bit extra height. From the top of the arch, he jumped at a slight angle out from the wall. Using the curve to cut a meter and a half off the course. It didn’t close the distance between him and the hybrid, but it did make it smaller. 

From the wall to the deck where the Dryl Sphere was mounted. 

Carful, careful, carful not to touch the Dryl Orb. At all. Not with any part of your body, armor, or accessories. Entrapta was very adamant about that part. Do not touch the Dryl Sphere. 

Hordak leaned out from the deck. Bracing his hands on the safety railing for balance. The narrow walkway that curled around the Orb was not designed for a being of his height and Hordak had to make sure to keep his head down for fear of his scalp or ears brushing against the membrane of the Orb. 

On the other side of the Orb deck, jump to the tall spire and climb up to the central crystal that powered the Crypto castle. This time there was no convenient service ladder to climb. Both Hordak and Dak had to rely on their talons –or hair- to scale the tall spire. Luckily for Hordak, the spire was not as smooth and un-scalable as the defensive wall. Decades –centuries?- of rain, snow, and whatever weather corrosion wore down stone beating on it bad made the spire porous and easy to find hand and footholds in. Hordak climbed it with ease. 

But the mongrel was having an even easier time. 

Dak was already jogging along the narrow catwalk that connected the spire to the cliff-face by the time Hordak even reached the top. 

All the way to the cliff-face. Do not go into the mines, that’s not part of the course. Take the rope back down to the castle. Enter through the roof access. 

The mongrel was sliding down the rope, holding it with their hair to avoid rope burns. 

Forget that! If Hordak was gonna beat that composite creature he had to get to the roof first. In a reckless move, the likes of which he hadn’t pulled since he was still a new clone, Hordak jumped off the catwalk. 

“Weren’t you afraid of jumping from just one fl-?” 

Dak cut off thier own question when they saw Hordak make a wobbly and imperfect three-point landing. Knees bent to absorb the impact, one hand on the roof for balance. 

On the roof, Hordak smirked. He was ahead of the mongrel again. He tried to stand back up to continued running. He was going to beat this course a second time and this time he was going to beat that creature too! Except his muscles protested when he tried to stand. Calves straining with pain. He wobbled unbalanced and had to put a second hand to the roof to keep from falling over completely. Hordak had to push himself back up to a standing position. His legs protesting every motion. He should not have jumped from that height. He was not a young clone anymore. 

Dak landed on the roof next to him. “Did you forget you’re so weak you could be killed by a tight hat?”

They took off running again, leaving Hordak behind. 

“I have never, in my life, worn a-“ Hordak gave up the statement before it was finished. The brat was getting too far away to hear him anyway. 

He forced himself to start moving again. Walking fast at first because his legs were still recovering from that jump. A jump that it turned out did not gain him anything. Whatever distance he might have gained was immediately lost again by how own body’s limitations and needs for rest. Hordak didn’t know if it was because of his defects or because he just wasn’t as young as he used to be. But he didn’t bounce back like he used too. He couldn’t just vault off a roof, and crash through a window, and take out a unit of enemies in close quarters anymore. Now he had to take a moment to pause, breath, and rest in between stunts. 

Dak made it back inside the castle before he did. 

He wished he knew the castle well enough to go off course and find a shortcut for himself back to the lab. But he barely knew where the lab was. Really. It was a different route to get to it every day! 

Dak was already there when Hordak finally reentered the lab. 

Perched in a swing made from their own hair, swinging gently. Sipping an orange fizzy drink. Looking smug. “Hey, you made it!”

This time, Hordak was breathing hard. His lungs burning. The muscles in his legs aching. And he felt a lightness in his head he recognized as the warning sign of possibly passing out. In fact, Hordak was very, very sure that if it weren’t for the upgrades Entrapta had already made to his armor, he probably would have passed out before reaching the lab. Her tech was the only thing keeping him conscious and vertical at the moment and all three of them knew it. 

Entrapta used her own hair to pull a wheely chair over to him. 

The readouts on the main screen showed that every single vital, gauge, and compensator in his armor was in the red. Numbers and percentages flashing warnings. The way his stats were freaking out on the computer, even Scorpia could probably tell that he was just a hair away from keeling over. 

But, the gap between his and the mongrel’s time was narrower. The hybrid creature only beat him by a few seconds this time. Less than a minute. They were closer matched than the composite clone taunted. 

Taking what satisfaction he could from that fact, Hordak allowed himself to sit down in the chair Entrapta provided for him. 

She began unfastening his armor, carefully unsnapping the plates and disengaging the prosthetic innards from his ports that plugged it directly into his nervous system. 

And Hordak promptly blacked out. 

When he woke up, he was still out of his armor, his ports stoppered up with sterile silicone plugs to keep particles from the lab from getting in. Someone had wrapped him in a blanket to keep his body insulated, a neon purple and fluffy blanket that was also weighted. And Entrapta was on the far side of the lab working on his exo-suit. Giving it another upgrade to compensate for how he had just pushed himself –unnecessarily- in this latest of tests. 

Scorpia and the mongrel were nowhere to be seen. The former-Force Captain probably took them back outside to play. 

“I do not like former-Force Captain Scorpia seeing me-“ a pause to find an alternate term for ‘weak’ “-like this.” He stated by way of announcing he was awake. 

Without lifting her head from her work, Entrapta lifted a tray from a work table and passed it to him. On it was a drink made from pureed green vegetables with vitamin boosters mixed in and a block of cold tofu. 

Entrapta did not stock ration bars in her castle. And Hordak absolutely refused to eat food with ‘too much flavor’, and to him, all food had too much flavor. So, it was hard finding nutritious things for him to eat. The tofu was as close to ‘flavorless’ as Baker had found thus far and she was now calling cold tofu his ‘favorite meal’. It was high in protein, but not much else. The rest of his nutrient needs were supplemented with the smoothie. Kale, carrots, beets, turmeric, vitamin supplements, and dairy milk all blended together. The flavor was three different kinds of bitter and also oddly spicy. Hordak hated every sip of it. But, he also knew it was necessary to maintain his own health. So, he choked down the vile concoction, then chased it with bites of the blissfully bland tofu. 

“Scorpia is my Best Friend.” Entrapta reminded him, intentionally choosing a moment when his mouth was full so that he could not talk back. “She rescued me from Beast Island. I trust her. You can trust her too.” A pause. “It is okay to trust people, you know. According to my research, that’s the only way you can make real friends.” 

Hordak swallowed his mouthful of tofu. “I will trust you.” He stated flatly. “I owe my life to you, not once, but twice.”

The most obvious and most recent time being when she literally pulled him back from the brink of death using First Ones tech. It did what his own body could not do and healed his injuries, and closed his wounds. 

Hordak ran a talon over the scars. Synthetic skin knitted into his organic flesh. Three lines cutting through his eye on the left side of his face. A vividly bright violet that stood out against the white of his natural skin. “Not just for this.”

Before that, when he passed out in his Sanctum. His old armor that he built for himself had been irreparable. Whatever damage the explosion caused it, he did not have the skill to fix. Without armor and prosthetics, he would have died. It was only a matter of time. As Entrapta said, his armor was holding him together. So, what did she do? She built him new armor! Better armor. Something that didn’t just ‘hold him together’, but that proactively made him stronger. Healthier. Worked with his body. Part of his body. Not armor, but an exoskeleton. Entrapta might not realize it, but she saved his life with that exo-suit. 

That was twice now she saved his life. 

Hordak trusted Entrapta implicitly. 

In fact, Entrapta was probably the only person on the planet he trusted. 

She looked up from her work, lifting goggles so that she could meet his eyes. A gentle smile on her face. “According to my research, friendship is not a series of transactions.” She informed him. “You don’t owe me anything. I saved you because, I…” She trailed off. Entrapta wanted to say, ‘I like having you around’ or ‘I like being with you’. Which was absolutely true. But it seemed somehow wrong to say that when they both knew he would be leaving soon. “…I want you to be happy, and you can’t be happy if you’re dead. You can’t be anything if you’re dead. Because you’d be dead.”

“I would still be a soldier.” Hordak informed her, he popped another cube of tofu in his mouth. “I would go to join my brothers in the All High Host.”

She squinted at him, frowning in incomprehension. “What’s that, some kind of hive-mind?”

“No, the Host. A host. As in, an army. A multitude of my brothers past.” Hordak tried to explain, feeling odd. He’d never had to explain his afterlife before. All of his brothers always already knew of it and he’d never cared to share with a non-brother before. Hordak found he didn’t know how to explain the All High Host. 

Entrapta just continued to stare at him. “Hordak, do you… believe in an afterlife?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it again. Feeling foolish. Overall, the Horde had no real mythologies. No gods or goddesses. No ancient heroes, or legendary totems of power. They only had their Creator, Horde Prime, and their creator told them that if they served him diligently in life, they would be able to join all their brothers after their deaths. So… yes, Hordak did believe in an afterlife. All clones of Horde Prime believed in an afterlife, because Horde Prime told them there was one. But saying it out loud felt so strange. Explaining it to an outsider felt so strange. It felt like… stories, and the Horde did not tell stories. 

“I died.” He finally said. He ran a finger over his bright violet scars that stood out boldly from the pale skin of his face. “When Catra did this. You did not make it to me in time. I bled out. I died. I… I went…”

But he did not go to join the Host. 

He went somewhere else. 

It was hard for Hordak to remember. Like trying to recall a dream. An endless expanse of mist. And someone else was there… his mentor! Lord Hode. The ‘place for waiting’ Hode called it. It was not the All High Host. Hode was the only brother there. But, if Hordak did not go to join the Host when he died, did that mean that he hadn’t earned it? That he hadn’t served his Brother and Emperor well enough to earn a place in eternity alongside brothers? Or, did it mean that the Host wasn’t real? Did that mean that Horde Prime… told them a falsehood? 

No. 

No, that could not be right. 

Lord Hode called it the ‘place for waiting’, and shortly after arriving, Hordak was brought back to life by Entrapta. The ordeal did not disprove the existence of the Host, or that Hordak had a place among them. All it meant was that it was not his time to join. 

“Where did you go?” Entrapta asked, genuinely curious. “Did you see this Host of yours? I always had a hypothesis that the ‘afterlife’ is just the last living neurons in a person’s brain misfiring. That’s why most people who ‘die and come back’ or have near-death experiences always describe the afterlife as whatever concept of the afterlife their culture already has. There was this one case in which a woman from Andreen drown, her brain was without oxygen for over five minutes, but she was revived and when she came back, she described her heart being weighed against a feather to decide what kind of afterlife she should have. You’ve been on Etheria a while, you must know that in Andreen, they believe that a person’s heart contains all the things they did in life and after they die, those deeds are weighed against a feather. Good deeds are light or weightless, while bad deeds are heavy and if the heart weighs more than the feather they go to the Bad Place.” 

Hordak did not know that. He also did not care. 

“But it’s just so interesting that the ‘afterlife’ she experienced was exactly the same as the ‘afterlife’ she grew up believing was true.” Entrapta continued. “So, if you got to join your Host during the interim when you were dead, that’s just further evidence to support my hypothesis. I might even be able to upgrade it to a theory!”

Hordak frowned. He did not join the Host. He did not see all of his brothers. He only saw one. Lord Hode. His mentor. Prime’s top general before him. And Hode told him something. Something that seemed important. But Hordak just could not remember now that he was alive, and awake, and living. 

“I do not wish to speak of afterlives anymore.” He announced. 

“Okay, but you brought it up.” Entrapta went back to servicing his armor. The new upgrades were almost done. He could put it back on in a few more minutes. 

Hordak turned his own attention back to the cold tofu in front of him. The only tolerable –non-ration bar- food this entire planet managed to produce. As close to flavorless as one could get. 

When he was finished, he set the trey aside. 

An odd silence settled over the lab. 

Not the easy silence of two people working together on a common project. Not even the odd false silence in which Entrapta was actually talking into her recorder and her even flow of dialogue lulled him into a calming trance. No. This silence was oddly tense and neither one of them could quite posit a hypothesis as to why.

“My Brother will be arriving any day now.” Hordak announced. 

“I know.” Entrapta nodded, not turning to look at him. One tendril of hair slid the welding mask down over her face. 

“When I part, I wish to…” He trailed off, unsure of what words described how he felt. What he wanted when he left Entrapta. 

Truth be told, he was unsure what word to use to describe how he felt about her at all. Were she another clone of Horde Prime like himself he would simply call her his very favorite brother. The person he was most attached too aside from Horde Prime himself. But Entrapta was not a brother. She was a native Etherian, of the sub-species homo-sapien, gender: female. She could not be any less like one of his brothers if she tried. She was… his very favorite alien. 

Hordak cleared his throat and started over. “If Horde Prime will allow the rift to remain open after I have left, I shall send you a ship as a gift. The very best non-military ship I can find! So that you may leave Etheria and study and explore the stars as you please.”

Her mask was still down when she turned to look at him, so Hordak could not see her expression. But her voice sounded almost strained, as if she were trying to hold something back when she replied. “I would like to study the stars-“ and there was an odd cut off to the sentence. Almost as if she wanted to add a qualifying onto the end of that. ‘I would like to study the stars- if?’ ‘I would like to study the stars- but?’ ‘I would like to study the stars with…’

Entrapta cleared her throat, then wordlessly tuned back to her work on his armor. 

Hordak pulled the weighted blanket tighter around himself, feeling as if he’d said something wrong somehow. 

“It’s finished.” Entrapta announced, lifting the curved collar plate bearing the First Ones crystal with a tendril of hair. “Stand up so I can help you into it.”

He did stand up. 

A little too fast. 

And had to sit right back down again. 

With a sigh, her mask still covering her face, Entrapta extended her hair to lift and position him how she needed so that she could start reassembling his exo-suit around him. Unplugging the sterile silicone stoppers in his ports and reinserting the connectors that wired the armor directly into his nervous system. Then the plates over that to protect the prosthetics. Finally, she snapped the collar with the First Ones crystal around his neck and Hordak felt whole again. Complete. As that crystal powered and completed his exoskeleton, it also completed him. It was a part of him. As much a piece of his body as an arm or a leg. And Entrapta created it. In an odd way, she was part of him. 

Metaphorically, obviously. 

Hordak had never dabbled in metaphors before coming to Etheria. Prime’s clones were not taught metaphors. Hode tried to teach them to him. But he never really understood them. Now here he was, making up some of his own. His armor was part of him and Entrapta made his armor, thus, Entrapta was part of him. 

Strands of hair moved over his shoulders, smoothing out already smooth plates. Or brushed away non-existent dust. Hordak leaned into that light touch of hair, breathing in the unique odor that was Entrapta. The body wash she used, under a layer of machine lubricant, fresh perspiration, and a singular shade of pheromone Hordak had come to associate exclusively with the female-identifying gender. All of it coming together to form the picture that was ‘Entrapta’s scent’. He wanted to memorize that scent. 

After he left, he might never get to smell it again. 

Entrapta traced the diamond outline of the First Ones crystal at his throat. “You still can’t red First Ones writing, can you?”

She phrased it like a question, but it was a statement. 

“The writing system is absurd and does not make sense to me.” He informed her. “It looks far less like ‘writing’ and far more like ‘art’ for my taste.”

“It is complicated.” She admitted. “And open to interpretation. I’m probably one of three people on the planet that managed to teach myself to read it and even I’m not that good.” 

She moved her hair away from the crystal and replaced it with her gloved hand. 

Hordak heard more than felt his breath catch in his chest. She so rarely touched him with her hands. In fact, he could not consciously recall a time when she did touch him with her hands. He could not recall a time when he saw her touch anybody with her hands! Princess Entrapta did not physically interact with people through her hands. She used her hair. She used her hair for most things. She interacted with the world through her hair. The idea of her touching something with her hand –albeit a gloved one- was unheard of! 

“In all that confusion in the Crimson Waste, did anybody ever tell you what the word etched on this crystal says?” She asked, mask still down so that he could not read her expression. 

Hordak felt an inexplicable lump in his throat. Like he was nervous about something. What did he had to be nervous about? They were just talking about the random word in First Ones language on his crystal. It was a fragment. It probably came off of something larger. It probably just said something mundane and inconsequential. Like ‘lunch’! It probably just said ‘lunch’. 

The readout on the main monitor showed that his heartrate was increasing. 

Why was he suddenly so nervous? 

Hordak swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“I do not recall anyone with knowledge to tell, informing me of its meaning.” He confessed. 

Entrapta lowered her hand. “I see.” The mask was still over her face. “That’s probably for the best. You’ll be leaving soon anyway. I doubt they have ‘First Ones’ out in the Known Universe.”

She pulled away. Turning her attention to other projects. Picking up pieces of each and setting them back down again. Not getting to work on anything. Just petering around her lab without purpose or aim. 

Hordak felt confused and oddly deflated. As if something very important were about to happen between them but then was aborted at the last second. 

“I need to get ready to head to Salineas.” She announced suddenly. “Mermista will be getting impatient if I don’t head over there soon. Why don’t you go say good bye to Scorpia and Dak. Since your Brother will be coming to pick you up any day now.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then quickly realized he had no idea what to say. For some reason, he felt like he was being left behind by Lord Hode all over again. He was asked a question that the tone implied was more important that the words alone meant, and when he did not give the answer the asked wanted, he was dismissed. 

‘Whom do you serve? What is the Empire?’

‘Did anybody ever tell you what the word etched on this crystal says?’

“Entrapta, I-“ But he had no idea how to finish that sentence, so he just let it cut off there. Retreating back into motions he had been conditioned in since before he was given conscious thought, Hordak struck an attention, then gave the Princess a salute. He performed a stiff about face, and exited the lab. 

Entrapta waited until the door was shut all the way behind him before she allowed herself even one sniffle. 

Why did the people she thought were her friends keep leaving her behind?

…

Outside the lab, Hordak didn’t know where he should go, and he was convinced that no matter where he tried to go, he would inevitably get lost no matter what. 

So, he just wandered the castle aimlessly. 

Somehow, he made it outside. The first time he was able to ‘navigate’ to the courtyard on his own without being led by another or following directions taped to the floor. 

Captain Batting and her soldiers saluted and bowed to him. She was drilling them again. Always drilling them. There wasn’t really much else for the Horde garrison of Dryl to do except, well, drill. The Horde he had built here on Etheria was in a sort of state of limbo at the moment. Aimless and directionless. They- they served no purpose. The Horde of Dryl perhaps more so than the Horde still in the Fright Zone. But Batting made sure her soldiers were still combat ready, should a purpose be found for them. Hordak gave the Captain a stiff nod. 

She decided to interpret that as approval from her Lord and smiled proudly. She thought, that he thought, she was doing a good job. 

She could think whatever she wanted. He would be leaving soon. Her opinions did not matter. 

Hordak strolled around the yard, looking up at the sky. His attention in the rift shining with light as bright as the Glow Moon. Any day now, his Brother would come through that rift and collect him. Hordak was so focused on the sky, that he failed to see what was in front of him and almost walked right into the brough armored chest of former-Force Captain Scorpia. 

“Whoa, there!” He felt pincers gently steady him before he even realized he was in danger of falling over. “Oh, hey-ya, Lord Hordak!”

“Former-Force Captain.” He nodded, unsure if he had the authority here to command her to release him. 

He needn’t have worried. Scorpia let go of him almost as soon as she had grabbed him. 

“Dak and I were just about to play a game of catch.” She announced. “But you can play too if you want!”

Hordak looked around the big woman to where the smaller clone was standing. Holding a lemon-shaped ball in their hands. They dropped the ball the moment their eyes met Hordak’s. 

“Actually, I think I’ll just go back inside and see if Mother needs anything.” They turned to leave. 

“Wha?” Scorpia turned to them. “But don’t you wanna play catch with your dad?”

Dak did not reply. They just waved ambiguously with their hair, not even turning around to look at either of them, and went back inside. 

Hordak was left standing outside with Scorpia. 

She sighed and picked up the lemon-shaped ball from where Dak had dropped it. “Guess I’ll just put this away.” She muttered to no one in particular. Then she turned and looked Hordak directly in the eyes, definitely speaking to him specifically. “You should try to play with Dak at least once before you go.”

He corssed arms over his chest defiantly. Even if Hordak knew how to ‘play’ or even what this ‘play’ was besides just another form of ‘wasting time’, he would not choose to do so with that mongrel. He did not like the mongrel, and judging from the mongrel’s behaviors, the feeling was mutual. “Why should I?”

“Because you’re their father.” Scorpia said as if that should have been obvious.

Which it was not. Not to him. “My kind do not have ‘fathers’.” He informed her. “Neither do we have ‘children’. My kind are all brothers, and that composite creature is not a brother of mine.”

“Of course they’re not your brother!” Scorpia scoffed. “You can say ‘your kind don’t have children’ all you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that Entrapta made Dak using your DNA, and she made them out of her love for you! That makes Dak your child. You should give them at least one happy memory of you before you go.”

“I did not ask Entrapta to make that creature for me.” He reminded her. “Neither was their creation meant to be an offspring of any variety. Entrapta meant that clone to be a new body to replace this one.” He tapped the crystal at his collar. “The only reason it even resembles a child at all is because you let it out of its tank early. If that mongrel is anyone’s ‘child’ it is yours.”

“They.” Scorpia corrected him. “Dak is a ‘they’ not an ‘it’. And you should be nice to Dak, if not because they’re your child, then because you and them are the same.”

“In what regard?” Hordak could not think of a single way he and that hybrid were ‘the same’.

Scorpia sighed. A deep, exhausted sigh, of someone trying to impart profound wisdom, but realized they had somehow started talking to a brick wall. “I learned a lot from Catra, ya know. Like, I was so, so, so in love with her. I wanted her to pay attention to me. I wanted her to pay attention to me so much. I held Entrapta prisoner and kept her secret from Shadow Weaver for her, I tracked rebels through the Whispering Woods for her, I went into the Crimson Waste with her so that she wouldn’t die alone. And, ya know what? She never looked at me the way I wanted. She never appreciated me. She would never feel about me the way I wanted her to.”

“Is there a point to this?” Hordak began disliking the direction this was heading at the very first mention of Catra’s name. 

“How I felt about Catra… how she kept stringing me along, using my feelings and using me…” Scorpia explained, “it looks an awful lot like how Dak is so desperate to impress Entrapta, and ya know who else? You wanting to go back to your ‘Big Brother’. You and Dak are the same.”

“How dare you-!” 

Scorpia shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong. You never told me about your Brother directly. Everything I think I know, I picked up from context. I’m usually not good at figuring things out with so little help, but, Catra made me good at recognizing that one thing.” A pause. “Tell me, how did you get to Etheria in the first place?”

“A portal opened itself up which I was fighting on the front lines.” He scoffed. That, at least, had become common knowledge between the four of them. Entrapta, Dak, and Scorpia all knew how he came to be on Etheria. So, why was Scorpia asking a question she already knew the answer too?

“And is it common for ‘top generals’ to be fighting on the front lines?” She asked her follow-up question. 

Hordak knew what she was getting at. He remembered collapsing during a strategy meeting. He remembered being lifted by the throat up off the floor. He remembered accidentally outing himself as defective and being stripped of his rank and power, and being sent to fight like a low-level grunt trooper again. He knew what Scorpia was getting at. But she did not know one crucial detail. 

That was what he was created for. 

He, like all of his brothers, was created to serve the Emperor of the Known Universe, Horde Prime. 

If he served as a cabinet Lord and top general, or as a lowly grunt, it didn’t matter. He was serving his purpose. So long as he had a purpose to serve, he had not failed. Failure was when something no longer served a purpose, and he could still serve his Brother. 

Brother would see that. 

Brother had to see that! 

If Brother didn’t see his value, then why was he… still alive…?

“I do not need to listen to this from you!” Hordak snarled. He also turned and stomped away from Scorpia. 

He would have gone back inside, same as the mongrel had. Except he did not want to do the same thing the mongrel did, and he also knew the moment he set foot back inside the castle, he would inevitably get lost. He did not want to add the frustration of getting lost on top of the insult of Scorpia basically saying Horde Prime didn’t care about him. 

So, Hordak just sort of stood there. His back to Scorpia. Partway across the yard. Standing frozen in indecision. 

Then, one of Batting’s soldiers shouted. “Look up in the sky!”

For the second time, every being in the courtyard turned. Forgetting what they were doing, their attention fixed up. At the rift in the sky. 

From out of the rift came a craft. From this distance, Hordak could not identify exactly which capitol ship it was, but it was not the Velvet Glove. Brother was not coming to collect him in person. Brother was sending a member of the cabinet. 

That was fine. Brother was still sending someone to collect him. Brother was sending someone to bring him back. Brother wanted him back. That alone proved Scorpia wrong. 

Hordak smirked. He would be going home soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, StrawberryOverlord did a wonderful cover for this fic series. Please head on over to deviantART and give it some love! [A Song of Steel and Light](https://www.deviantart.com/strawberryoverlord/art/COMM-A-Song-of-Steel-and-Light-cover-827112916)  
> 


	9. Not the Welcome He Expected

Kyle was so nervous passing through the Whispering Woods. He could not recall –to date- a single experience in the woods that did not involve him being shot at with rainbows, almost rolled over by one of his own side’s tanks, almost being left behind by his teammates, getting burned by molten pollen, thrown in a river, or any variety of other dangerous and usually violent experiences. Kyle just wanted to get through the woods, and get to Brightmoon so that he could message Lonnie that Adora was just on her normal bullshit, so that he could go home. 

The Fright Zone wasn’t exactly any kinder than the Whispering Woods, but at least it was familiar, and Kyle understood it. Well, understood it as well as he could. Kyle couldn’t help but feel he didn’t belong. But he at least ‘didn’t belong’ in the Fright Zone less than he didn’t belong anywhere else on Etheria. 

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw movement and Kyle jumped. Extending his shock-baton out in front of him while the other arm was thrown in front of his face to shield his eyes. Then Kyle felt immensely stupid because it was just a dry leaf falling.

He sighed. Embarrassed. 

Rogelio placed a reptilian hand on his shoulder and growled something that sounded like it was meant to be reassuring. 

Kyle didn’t really know what he said exactly. He never could quite figure out what the other man was ever trying to say. But he got the gist. They were almost through the woods. If they peered through the thick leaves and squinted really hard, they could just barely see the light of the Moonstone shining through the trees. It was almost as bright as the light from the cut in the sky. 

Nodding to his companion, eyebrows angling down with determination, Kyle faced forward and began marching again. They were almost through the woods. If they kept moving, didn’t get lost, and maintained an even pace, they could reach Brightmoon by moondown. 

They trudged through the woods. On foot. Lonnie said she could not spare a vehicle for them. All of them that were ‘all terrain’ enough to drive anywhere besides the paved roads of the Fright Zone were already in use shipping in supplies to repair Central Command. All those that could not drive off the paved roads of the Fright Zone never would have been able to make it through the uneven terrain, and narrow paths of the Whispering Woods. So, Rogelio and Kyle were walking. And because they did not actually want to go, walking slowly. 

Now they were over half-way through the woods and really wanted to get out of the shadow of the trees. Raising his head, lifting his chin, Kyle tried to look confident, even if he didn’t feel it, and put on an extra burst of speed. 

He just wanted to get out of the woods. 

As predicted, they reached Brightmoon by moondown, the Glow Moon dipping low over the harbor, reflecting brightly on the water, and casting long shadows over the land. 

They were met at the edge of the tree line by guards. 

Two tall women, in long cloaks, thrown over bulky shoulder guards, and helmets that came down to cover their eyes, but didn’t seem to have any sort of visor to allow for vision, just two narrow eye-slits. Kyle might have wondered how these soldiers ever managed to defeat the Horde during their attack on Brightmoon at all, except he was too terrified by the double-bladed, crescent wing shaped weapon thrust under his nose. 

“You’re Horde!” One of them snapped at him. 

Kyle and Rogelio both threw their arms up in a ‘peace’ gesture. 

“You’re supposed to know it’s us!” Kyle squeaked, voice higher than he wanted it to be. He took a breath and cleared his throat. Starting over, trying to sound more like the confident Emissary of the Horde that Lonnie trusted him to be. “Commander Lonnie sent us in response to that cut in the sky. Queen Glimmer is expecting us.”

The two guards exchanged a look. 

“The General did mention something…” Admitted one of them. 

“Hold them here. I’ll go get someone with authority.” Said the other. 

She jogged away, the long robes of her uniform wafting, and the bulky shoulder armor bouncing awkwardly with every step. 

Kyle turned his eyes back to the blades under his nose. “So… guess we’re waiting…”

He had no idea what to say, not really. He just didn’t wanna get his face cut off by a suspicious guard who’d been fighting his people her whole life. Kyle offered what he hoped was a friendly smile. These people had absolutely no reason to trust him, which meant that they would not hesitate to cut him if he gave them even the slightest inkling of a reason. 

They weren’t waiting long. 

The guard returned with Bow in tow. 

“Oh, hey, I remember you.” Bow smiled at him. “I thought the name ‘Kyle’ sounded familiar. You’re the nice one who brought my meals when I was a prisoner of the Horde.”

Kyle began to frown, then caught himself and plastered a shit-eating grin on his face instead –and hoped it looked enough like a smile to pass. “And you’re the rebel who tried to manipulate me and keep me distracted while your Princess buddied broke in.”

“No, no, no.” Bow threw his hands up, waving his palms in a gesture as if trying to wipe something away. “It wasn’t like that at all. It was just a misunderstanding! I was trying to be your friend, and Adora and the Princesses just happened to stage their rescue at that exact time.”

Kyle continued to look skeptical. This time, he did not try and censor his frown. 

Realizing this was not a conversation in which either one was going to change the other’s views, Bow decided to drop the subject. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, yes, Queen Glimmer is expecting them. Please let them pass. I will escort them to the palace and take full responsibility for them while they’re in Brightmoon.”

The two guards exchanged a look, then shrugged. Bow was not only the Alliance’s Tech Master, but he was also best friend to the Queen herself. If he wanted to take responsibility for the visiting Horde Emissary and his companion, let him. 

Bow lead Kyle and Rogelio on a path curling around the bay and up to the palace. 

This was actually a lot nicer than the welcome Kyle had expected. 

…

Entrapta wanted to stay in Dryl at least until Hordak left. But, she also had commitments to the other Princesses. Mermista was promised weapons next and the Princess of Salineas was getting impatient. Entrapta packed up the equipment she would need and was gone by the morning after that odd exchange that happened between her and Hordak. 

Hordak was used to the castle without her by this point. There was a strange kind of hollowness to the Crypto Castle when she was not in residence. But in addition to the strange hollowness now was also an abstract and ephemeral feeling of finality. 

He would be leaving soon. 

When she returned, he would have already left. 

They will never see each other again. 

Standing on the ramparts of the castle wall, Hordak gazed up at the rift in the sky. One hand drifted up to stroke the crystal at his throat where Entrapta had touched it. Touched it with her hand. Her hand, not her hair. Something she never did. She was trying to communicate something to him in that moment. Something important. But he was too dense. Hode always did say he was a slow learner. 

But he did learn. 

He would have liked to learn more… from Entrapta…

…

The mountain range was sharp and jagged. With sheer cliffs, steep slopes, and sharp overhands. The structure was situated under one such sheer cliff with sharp overhang. The natural sharp of the land hiding it so effectively that the first two scanner sweeps missed it. It was only by grace of the glowing orb perched on one of its middle towers that they were able to catch it. Seeing with their own eyes what the technology of their scanners missed. 

A semi-circle of a ramparted wall encircling a series of towers and spires. All of it the same dark indigo-brown of the cliffs that surrounded it, as if the structure had been carved from the very living rock of the mountain itself. A part of the mountain, not something built onto it. 

That was where 66694-42-003’s signal was coming from. That was where they would find their lost brother. 

There was no place to land the shuttle. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Red Hord suppressed the urge to sigh. Cabinet Lords did not heave frustrated sighs in front of their bridge crew and subordinates. Cabinet Lords were strong and firm pillars of competence and confidence. The image of command was just as important as the ability to command. 

“Engage the neutral repulsors and bring us into a hover as close to the settlement as possible.” He commanded. “I will collect 66694-42-003 myself.”

He may not be a cabinet Lord anymore, but Hordak used to be a Lord of equal rank to himself. Having any brother of a lesser rank collect him would have been an insult. Red knew how to play the game, and he never stopped playing it –not even with disgraced and deposed exiles. 

The pilot bringing the shuttle in for a close hover was originally from one of the wing squadrons of Red Hord’s division, and –in classic wing pilot fashion- talked to the controls as if the vehicle were a sentient being. Red rolled his eyes. Ugh. Wing pilots. Hordwing was the exact same way!

Hovering just off the edge of the cliff, the pilot expertly brought the ship up so that when they opened the main hatch and lowered the gangplank, it would settle almost perfectly onto the ramparted railing of the wall. 

Red Hord exited the bridge and made his way to the hatch.

Zero-Zero-Three, Hordak, was already on the wall waiting for them.

“Brother.” Red Hord nodded to him. Then actually took note of the former Lord Hordak’s appearance. “By the Host! What happened to you!?”

He had lost an unnderving amount of weight since the last time Red Hord saw him. His face was thin, almost gaunt by their standards. His hair was messy and limp, falling over his eyes on one side. He was wearing some kind of alien armor of a design Red did not recognize. But the most jarring change in his younger brother’s appearance were the scars. 

Three semi-vertical slash marks cutting down through one eye, and another three on his neck on the same side. The wounds were sealed with some kind of synthetic flesh, very similar to the syntheskin they used in their own medical bays. Except the color was all wrong! A bright –almost luminous- violet. 

Red Hord felt himself staring at the unnaturally colored scars and forced himself to blink his second set of eyelids. 

“Lord Red Hord.” Zero-Zero-Three nodded back, he chose to ignore the question about his appearance. 

“Our great and merciful Brother, Horde Prime, has sent me to collect you.” The other Lord informed him. 

A tension that Red hadn’t noticed initially –probably because the scars were just that jarring- melted from the younger clone’s face. Horde Prime might not have come himself, but he sent one of his cabinet Lords to collect him. Horde Prime still wanted him. Hordak might have almost smiled. Almost. 

“I am ready to go.” He climbed into the uneven rampart and stepped onto the shuttle’s gangplank. 

Red Hord did not offer him a hand up, but he did step aside so the other man could pass and head into the shuttle before him. 

Once they were both back inside, the hatch shut behind them with a slam of metal and a hiss of pressurization. Hordak felt the atmosphere shift from the oxygen heavy air he’d grown acclimated to on Etheria, to the nitrogen heavy air he was bread in, that he trained in, that he grew up breathing. Such rich nitrogen air… Hordak breathed deep. He wasn’t even aboard the Velvet Glove yet. They hadn’t even rejoined the fleet yet, but he already felt like he was home.

It smelled like home. 

Except it was also missing something. 

It took Hordak a moment, but it felt like the missing thing was Entrapta’s scent. That subtle blending of machinery lubricant, engine oil, perspiration, and body odor. How odd that he would be longing for her scent when he was already surrounded by the smell of ‘home’. 

“Tell the pilot to bring us back to the Leather Vest.” Commanded Lord Red Hord. 

“Yes, sir.” Nodded another brother. “Will you be securing the prisoner yourself, sir?”

“What?” Hordak hesitated before he reacted. Blinking with more confusion than betrayal. He glanced around the small entry area of the shuttle. There was no one else there but Lord Red Hord, the brother that has spoken, and himself. “What prisoner.”

Red pinched the bridge over his nasal cavity. “For the Host’s sake…” He groaned. 

Then took out his weapon and shot the dumb brother with the big mouth in the head. 

Blood spattered against the wall behind him. A little front spray splashing on Hordak’s cheek. That was when it clicked in his mind. 

He tried to move. Ducking around the dead body of the brother Red just shot and diving for the hatch release. They were high up in the air now. A jump from the shuttle would definitely, definitely cause him near fatal damage –if not just kill him instantly- but at least he had more of a chance plummeting back to Dryl than he did trapped in an enclosed area with another cabinet Lord as a captor. 

Hordak was too slow. 

Red Hord kicked one leg out from under him, and Hordak tripped. Tumbling to the floor before he could even get close to the hatch release controls. 

With another kick, Red forced the younger clone to roll over to face him. He sat on Hordak’s chest, pinning him down and shoved the barrel of his weapon under the younger man’s chin. 

“I said, Horde Prime told me to find you and bring you back to him.” Red growled, sounding more frustrated than anything else. There was no scorn, no rivalry, certainly no hatred in his voice. Just an overall current of ‘I don’t want to be here’. “So, you’re coming back to Horde Prime, and you’re going to come quietly. Or else!” He moved nose of the weapon down to press hard into the armored joint of Hordak’s elbow. “He did not say you couldn’t be in pieces when you were delivered.”

The message was clear. For every further escape attempts he made, Red would take a limb from him. High might still arrive back at Prime alive, but certainly not worth keeping. 

“I understand.” Hordak nodded. “I will comply.”


	10. Aboard the Velvet Glove

The day was warm, but a cool breeze blew in from the ocean, scenting the air with salt. Gulls called overhead, and waved lapped against rocks in a steady rhythm. 

Entrapta had never been to Salineas before. 

There had been a Princess Prom held in Salineas within her lifetime. But Entrapta had been very, very young back then and Ensnarea refused to bring her, instead leaving Entrapta behind in Dryl with the two robotic caretakers she’d constructed for that exact purpose. 

“Hey! Look at this!” Scorpia called from where she had been dipping her feet in the tide pools. Scorpia had been to Salineas before, but she spent most of that visit on a Horde battle ship and did not get to enjoy the rocky beach any. She was holding a bright pink and purple shell in her pincers. “I bet Dak would like this! I’m gonna bring it back for them.”

She slid the shell into a thigh pocket in her armor. 

The mention of Dak set off an uncomfortable feeling in Entrapta. She was supposed to be the hybrid’s ‘mother’, by the hybrid’s request. Yet she did not know how. Upon being reminded that she left them along in Dryl with her kitchen staff to care for them, while she came to Salineas… it was exactly what her own Predecessor did to her. Should she have offered Dak the option to come with her?

Dak definitely would have said ‘yes’. Without question. 

Entrapta looked up at the rift in the sky. A cut in the fabric of Despondos that opened up out into the Known Universe. Where Hordak was from. Where Hordak was going to return. Entrapta shook her head. No, she needed Dak in Dryl with Hordak. At least for as long as Hordak was still in Dryl. Since she couldn’t maintain and improve his armor for him, their little Lab Intern had to be the one to do it. So long as she still had Hordak to consider, she could not invite Dak away from their responsibility in Dryl. 

Entrapta would have to stop in Dryl again before heading north to the Queendom of Snows. Maybe she could Dak with her then. …if Hordak had left by then…

Looking back down, Entrapta formed her eyes away from the rift in the sky. Wherever Hordak was… still in Dryl with their clone, or in real space with his Brother… she hoped he was happy. 

…

Sitting in the detention brig aboard the Leather Vest, Hordak wouldn’t see the monitors and screens on the bridge as they passed through the rift. He could only imagine what the command crew was seeing. 

From the brig, he saw nothing. But he did hear the uncomfortable groaning of metal under stress. The temperature with his cell rose a few degrees, just enough to be noticeable, and he tasted metal in his mouth. 

The sound of strained metal ended fairly quickly, probably about as soon as they were out of the rift, he guessed. After that, the temperature began to drop down to ships normal as the climate control compensated for the spike. The taste of metal in his mouth remained –even after trying to spit several times- almost up until he heard the Leather Vest begin to dock with a larger vessel. 

A lump of nerves leapt up into Hordak’s throat and all other thought was driven from his mind. The Leather Vest was docking with another ship. That could only be the Velvet Glove. Hordak would finally be reunited with his Brother. 

He knew he should be apprehensive. He really, really, really should. Every rational fiber of his being told him he was in a very dangerous situation. He was not being brought home a hero. He was being carted back as a prisoner. Red Hord threatened him with bodily injury, say that Horde Prime did not care how many pieces he came back in. By the Host! Even former-Force Captain Scorpia told him returning to Prime was dangerous. Not her so many words, but in her clumsy, round-about way, she had told him. He would never be able to get Prime to see him the way he wanted Prime to see him. 

And yet, in spite of all that…

In spite of being stripped of his rank of Lord, his seat on the cabinet, and his name. In spite of being sent to the front lines of a far off rebellion where he was meant to die. In spite of being… in spite of being thrown away… 

Hordak was excited to see Prime again. 

He wanted to be back by his Brother’s side. 

It was all any clone of the Emperor of the Known Universe wanted: to be of special use to his Brother. To be… wanted. 

When the docking was complete, Lord Red Hord came to collect Hordak himself. 

Flanked by two guards, Red Hord dragged a palm down the energy field that acted as his cell bars and the barrier disappeared. 

Standing straight, shoulders back, chin held high, Hordak stepped out of the cell. “I am ready to see our Brother.”

“You’ll see our brother when he wants to see you.” Red Hord reminded him. 

He nodded to one of the guards he brought with him. The clone trooper stepped forward, holding a pair of energy cuffs. Twin bands of metal, worn like bracelets, that connected by a narrow beam of energy when activated. 

Hordak understood. He didn’t know how long he’d been gone –not in Imperial time- and he was living on an unknown alien planet, in an unknown alien shadow dimension. When they found him, they found him changed. Not just different clothing and armor, but thinner than any clone should be, and damaged. Scared and disfigured. They didn’t know what else was wrong with him. They didn’t know if he was now a danger to their Brother. Hordak submitted to being cuffed without question or protest. 

He was escorted out of the brig. 

Up through the ship. 

To the starboard gangplank that connected the Leather Vest to the Velvet Glove. 

There was a moment, passing through the middle, where the two gravity fields of the vessels overlapped and Hordak felt heavier than he should. His armor groaned around him. But there was no sparking to warn of a possible tizzy. No discomfort in his muscles to indicate the exoskeleton wasn’t capable of continuing to support him. The armor continued to function, and function well. Entrapta and the mongrel did good work. 

He missed them. Not just Entrapta, but –inexplicably- the mongrel too. After working with a person in close quarters, and being forced to trust them with your weaknesses, it was hard not to form an attachment. 

Threw a port window in the gangplank, Hordak could just see the glow of the first. Still open and shining bright. A stable portal into Despondos. Wherever she was on Etheria, Hordak hoped Entrapta was doing well. He wanted her to be happy. She deserved to be happy. 

“Keep walking, brother!” One of the guards jostled him after deciding that Hordak was being too slow and he nearly stumbled. 

Red Hord turned to look back at them. “Problem?”

“No.” Hordak assured him. “I am eager to be with our Brother once again.”

Hordak was not taken to see their Brother. Not right away. 

Once aboard the Velvet Glove, he was placed in another holding cell to await when the Emperor of the Known Universe was ready to see him. Hordak didn’t know how long he waited in that second cell. The Horde did not place chronometers with in cells of their brig. Prisoners did not get the luxury of know how long they had been down there. 

Entrapta had built a chronometer into his armor. It displayed a number on his wrist, the digital screen flashing Etherian numerals. By Etheria’s count of time, Hordak was waiting several hours. Long enough for Horde Prime to meet with Red Hord and discuss Hordak’s… capture. Or perhaps the situation on Etheria. Or maybe what to do with the rift. The last Hordak saw of it, it still remained open. Perhaps his Brother had other business still to take care of in Despondos. 

The Velvet Glove certainly wasn’t going anywhere. 

Through the floor, Hordak could feel the steady and even vibration of a capital ship’s engine on idle. Running the life support systems. Temperature control, nitrogen circulation, pressure control, gravity etc. All the background details of space fairing military that one did not think about on a daily basis but were vital to the continued success –and health- of said space fairers. 

But the thrusters were not firing. There was no motion from the decks below him. The ship was not moving. The Velvet Glove was not going anywhere. 

Which meant Prime wished to remain here. 

Which meant Prime had a purpose in remaining here. 

There was something Horde Prime wanted in this system, or perhaps down on Etheria. And it was not Hordak. Hordak was just the one that led him to it. 

Entrapta’s chronometer showed that Hordak was held in the cell for six hours when two clones of inconsequential rank came to collect him. 

He was escorted up several decks. Past the throne room with its cathedral windows. Down a corridor. Around a corner. More corridors. To the informal meeting room. Hordak had been in this room many time in his capacity as Lord and member of Prime’s cabinet. He’d been in the room many times even before that, in the capacity of Lord Hode’s most trusted Force Captain and chosen aid. He took notes and kept the minutes. Later, give his views of a battle and help plan a strategy. This was the room where most of the cabinet decisions were made. 

This was also the room Hordak collapsed in. The single event that exposed his defects to Prime and all the other Lords. 

The meeting table was gone. Removed from the room. Hordak could only hazard a guess as to why. 

The meeting chairs were replaced with more informal and comfortable looking resting chairs. The kind meant for lounging, not the hard, straight-backed affairs of business. Six of them in all.

Horde Prime was seated in one –the grandest one. His arms draped casually, almost lazily over the rests, one leg crossed over the other. Flanking him on either side were the four brothers of his ruling cabinet. Lord Hordwing at his right. Red Hord at the left. Hodren also at the left. And… Hordak did not know the fourth one. The other one that sat to Prime’s right, next to Hordwing. He assumed the new brother must be the one to replace him after Prime- …sent him away. Hordak did not know his chosen name. 

There was only one empty seat. Set apart from the other chairs. Facing Horde Prime, with the other five forming an almost semi-circle around it. 

Hordak stood next to this vacant chair, but he did not sit down. Not until Horde Prime commanded him to. 

He saw it on Prime’s face the moment he registered Hordak’s scars. His eyes widening and the solid sclera glowing just a noticeable shade brighter. Horde Prime was shocked by his disfigurement. Shocked and disgusted. 

But he did not comment. 

“You’re dismissed.” Prime waved a hand at the two guards that had escorted Hordak. 

They left without a word. 

Hordak waited. 

The one on the end, his replacement who’s name he did not know, passed a mug to Hordwing, whom passed it to Horde Prime. Hordak caught a whiff of the strong scent of caff as the cup moved. Horde Prime sipped at it delicately. 

“Excellent blend, Little Brother.” Prime praised the replacement. 

Hordak couldn’t help but bristle at the complement. Prime used to call him ‘Little Brother’. 

The Replacement flashed a smirk at Hordak, then took a sip of his own mug of caff. Slurping loudly. 

“Come here, Zero-Zero-Three.” Prime beckoned him closer with a single steel-tipped finger. 

Hordak tried not to feel the sting that being called by his serial number elicited in him. In truth, he hadn’t been ‘Lord Hordak’ for a long time. In truth, Horde Prime stripped him of his name when he demoted him from the cabinet and sent him to the front lines. In truth, he should not have continued to call himself ‘Hordak’ during his time on Etheria. It was a lie. He did not have permission to have a name. It was wrong of him to keep it. 

He stepped closer to where his Emperor sat. Then knelt on the floor. Humbling himself before his Creator. 

Reaching down, Prime took Hordak’s face in his steel plated hand. The metal of the Emperor’s glove feeling cold against his skin. Hordak shivered before he was able to catch the motion and stop it. Prime tilted his chin up, using a bit more force than was necessary. The muscles in his neck feeling stretched uncomfortably. 

Prime’s eyes narrowed as he examined Hordak more closely. Tracing the lines of bright violet synthetic skin knitted into his face. Not a tattoo, or a cosmetic marks, but scars. Unmistakable proof that not only was he so weak as to be injured, but also that he did not have the resources or knowledge to heal himself properly. Another defect to add to the list. 

But Prime’s examination did not stop at his face. He continued downward, looking to the armor of alien design that he wore. Just a little too sophisticated for a clone trooper to have constructed on their own. Someone had to have helped him. Meaning that Hordak had not been self-sufficient in his exile. Meaning he had help. He was weak, and useless, and-

Prime paused. 

Staring at the crystal in the center of Hordak’s collar. 

Diamond shaped. A bright violet, almost the same shade as the scars on his face, and glowing slightly. But the most striking thing about the crystal were the marking etched into it. Markings in a language Prime had not seen in many years. Markings in the language of Mara’s people.

‘You said you could heal him!’

“Anillis-! I’m sorry! He was too far gone.’

Horde Prime hooked his steel-plated fingers inside the collar and lifted Hordak a few centimeters up to be on eye-level with him. “Where did you get this?”

Hordak gasped at the sudden motion. Feeling inexplicably out of breath. “On- on Etheria!”

“Who gave it to you?” Prime demanded. 

Thinking he was talking about the armor and not the crystal, Hordak supplied, “It was made for me by-“ my very favorite alien “-my Lab Partner. She constructed this exoskeleton so that I may better serve you, my Brother!”

“She?” Echoed Prime. He threw Hordak back down. Off balance, he crumpled on the floor, the skirts of his gown thrown up disgracefully. Prime ignored him. “She…” he continued to growl. “Was she the one you warned of in your message? The champion who fought with a powerful sword of steel and light.”

Hordak pushed himself up off the floor, and righted his skirts, attempting to reclaim some of his dignity. “No. That is She-Ra, my enemy. My Lab Partner is- was-“ he was not with Entrapta anymore, Hordak wasn’t sure what tense to use when speaking about her “-my own.”

“Your own.” Prime repeated with derision. His eyes flicked back down to the crystal. The language was not his own, and it was absurdly complicated and difficult to learn. At first glance, he thought the crystal said ‘lunch’. That perhaps it was joke that he did not understand. Upon a second, more critical examination, he realized that his first reading of it was wrong. The crystal did not say ‘lunch’. The crystal did not say ‘lunch’ at all. “Your own… And can you read the word your own Lab Partner etched into your armor? Do you know what that crystal says?”

For half a moment, Hordak was thrown back into the dimly lit lab in Dryl. He felt Entrapta touch the crystal with her hand, not her hair, her hands. Felt her warm breath on his neck when she asked, ‘Did anybody ever tell you what the word etched on this crystal says?’

He lowered his eyes. Feeling an odd mingling of regret and shame at not knowing what the crystal at his throat said. 

“It is not any of the languages I was programmed with, my Brother.” Hordak finally answered. 

Prime relaxed back into his seat. Of course Zero-Zero-Three did not know what it said. If he did, he would not have chosen to return. Prime knew from personal experience just how… seductive the ones who used that language could be. The idea that their magi-technology could solve any problem. He almost fell victim to it. Hode did fall victim to it. If Zero-Zero-Three thought he was beloved by a native of that world, he would not have returned to Prime’s side so readily. He would not have called Prime back to this system in the first place. Hordak would have opted to stay in his isolated shadow dimension with his… own Lab Partner. 

Prime’s lip curled in an expression hallway between a sneer of derision, and a smirk of satisfaction. 

“Sit down.” Horde Prime finally commanded him. 

Hordak did as he was told. Climbing into the empty chair, and feeling himself ever-so-slightly sink into the over-stuffed cushions. It really was immensely comfortable. Pillowing around him and supporting him with a level of ease he hadn’t experienced in years. Hordak couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him as he felt a tension in his muscles relax. 

“Hodrake, offer your brother some caff.” Prime said to the Replacement. So, his chosen name was Hodrake. Hordak instantly hated him. 

Hordak did not like caff. He did not like the smell. He did not like the bitter taste. He did not like how it was always served hot. He hated it even more when some brothers added sugar, or animal dairy to it in an attempt to ease the bitterness. Adding things to it, gave it more flavor, not less. No matter what, the taste of caff was always too overpowering for him. But more than that, the high caffeine content of the drink raised Hordak’s heartrate and aggravated the symptoms of his condition. 

But Prime wanted him to have a cup of caff, so he accepted the mug that Hodrake held out for him. “Thank you, brother.”

Hodrake’s only response was to slurp his own mug of caff loudly. A sound that grated on Hordak’s nerves. 

“Now, tell me about She-Ra.” Ordered Prime. “Your enemy. How is she still alive? She must be quite old by now.” Even with the power of a Sword to sustain her. 

“No.” Hordak shook his head. “She is quite young.” 

Prime frowned. Mara had managed to sustain herself, not just sustain her life, but her youth as well. While she could not even save the life of one innocent child. Zed had done nothing wrong. Ever. In his life. He did not deserve to die for Anillis’ sins. Mara said she could save him. That she could save both of them, not just Zed but Par-Is too. All he had to do was bring them to Etheria and she would save his family. 

But she didn’t. 

Now, he learns that She-Ra is not only still alive but ‘quite young’! Mara was just hoarding the magic for herself! 

Prime bared his teeth and his voice shook just barely enough to be noticed when he asked his next question. “And where, on Etheria, does she reside?”

Hordak paused, raising a brow. He’d never heard his Emperor and Creator sound like that before. Full of quiet rage and… desperation. “She- she goes where she is needed, my Brother.” He answered. Confused as to why Prime felt such passion for a being he’d never met before and was only just learning of now. “But when she is not interfering with the Horde I have built there –in your name, of course- she makes her base in Brightmoon. A territory on the western continent in one of the temperate zones.” 

Leaning back in his seat, Prime nodded. He looked to Red Hord. “While you were there, did you survey the planet?”

“Yes, my Brother.” Nodded Red. 

He pulled out his datapad, and typed in a couple of commands. The room lights dimmed and a hologram appeared in the space between their chairs. A semi-transparent globe in a pale shade of green, rotating slightly, with twelve moons orbiting it. Etheria. 

“Indicate on this map where Brightmoon is.” Prime commanded. 

Raising one talon, Hordak hesitated. Inexplicably feeling like this was a wrong move. But Horde Prime was his Creator. His Emperor. His Brother. Brightmoon and She-Ra were his enemies. He had no reason to conceal their location. Besides, with all the resources of the Horde Empire at his disposal, it would not take Horde Prime long to find Brightmoon and She-Ra anyway. There was absolutely no reason for Hordak to conceal Brightmoon’s location. 

The hologram did not have a physical presence, but the computer made a synthetic tapping sound when his talon touched the globe. 

“Here.” He said. “Brightmoon is here. She-Ra resides within the palace, with the Queen.”

…And Hordak never really noticed before just how close Brightmoon really was to Dryl. On the planet’s surface, they seemed so far away from each other. Separated by a wide and jagged mountain range. Difficult to cross. On foot or with an all-terrain vehicle. But from space… from space it looked like there was only a span of a few kilometers. 

If Prime attacked Brightmoon from above… Would Entrapta be safe…?

Prime nodded, satisfied. 

The lights went back up. The hologram disappeared. 

Hordak had to blink the nictitating eyelids of his eyes to adjust for the sudden change in lighting. 

“Thank you, Zero-Zero-Three,” said Prime, “that will be all.”

The door behind him slid open again and the same two brothers from before entered to collect Hordak and escort him back to the brig. He leapt to his feet. “My Brother, am I not to return to your side?” 

“My side?” Prime echoed. “Why would I keep you at my side?”

“I- I am a member of your cabinet!” Hordak reminded him. 

Horde Prime glanced from one side to the other. Pausing on each of the four brothers that flanked him. All named members of his cabinet. …and Hordak was not one of them. 

“My cabinet seems quite full without you.” Prime informed him. 

Of course Horde Prime would have replaced him. Hordak didn’t know how long he’d been gone in Imperial time. But, more than that, Prime would have replaced him before he even disappeared. Horde Prime probably replaced him the very next day after he passed out in the conference room. Horrin was replaced only a moment after Hode killed him. There was no delay in the promotion of new leadership. Horde Prime liked to keep his cabinet full. No seat was left vacant. This was the way things had always been done. Hordak knew this. 

He still found himself arguing. “I survived on my own in a shadow dimension! I built a new empire in your name! I spent every waking moment, and every resource I had to get back to you! I- I am Lord Hordak, and I-“

“No. You’re not.” Prime cut him off before he could finish his desperate rant. “Only cabinet lords are allowed names, and you are no longer a member of my cabinet. You are not Lord Hordak, Commander of the Third Division. You are a deserter and a defect. You are 66694-42-003, and once I am sure I no longer have a use for you, you won’t even be that anymore.”

Hordak- Zero-Zero-Three, stood there. Unsure of what to think. 

He knew. 

He had known. 

He had been told. 

And yet… hearing it from Prime’s own lips was what made it real. He was a deserter. He vanished from the field of battle without clearance or explanation. It didn’t matter that it was because of circumstances beyond his control. They didn’t know that. And he was a defect. He was hatched a defect. He should have been purged at hatching. But he wasn’t. He continued in the ranks. Concealing his condition and climbing his way up, until he was at Prime’s side. A defect weakening Prime’s own cabinet. Of course, he would not be allowed to return to his Brother’s side. 

His Brother did not want him. 

His Brother was only keeping him until he could be sure that Zero-Zero-Three no longer held any useful information for him. Then, Prime would… remove the defect. This time, in a more permanent way. 

Zero-Zero-Three lowered his eyes. His Brother didn’t want him. 

‘Tell me, Zero-Zero-Three, whom do you serve?’

But he was a good soldier, and a good brother. Zero-Zero-Three always served the Empire. He would submit. 

Zero-Zero-Three allowed the guards to re-cuff him and escort him out of the room. 

…

Evil-Lyn never knew what to expect whenever she made her way over to the ruin of the castle hidden between the peaks of Snake Mountain. She didn’t know if she was going to walk in on Skeletor bent over a map of the planet, planning yet another unnecessarily complicated scheme that was doomed to fail. Or if she was going to enter the throne room to find his limp body hung from the rafters by the neck, and swaying limp. 

She was not expecting to find Skeletor moving around the castle with the hast of purpose, gearing up for a fight. Not a cockamamie scheme. A fight. 

The thigh armor he hadn’t worn in years was clipped to the belt of his loincloth and buckled in place around his legs. He was wearing the plated boots instead of the purple leather ones. His chest was still mostly bare apart from the bandoliers crossed over it. But he had his old twin swords strapped to his back, and was carrying his Havoc Staff in one hand. His hood drawn up over his skull. 

Panthor trotted at Skeletor’s side, the large Dylinx feline already fitted with its green armored saddle and helmet. 

“Did I miss an Evil Warrior meeting?” Asked Evil-Lyn, looking Skeletor up and down. 

He didn’t have facial expressions. His face was a skull and lacked the soft tissue –the muscles and skin- that formed expressions. Even so, there was something about his general air. The angle of his shoulders, the set of his feet when she stopped him, how he held his staff, how he carried himself. There was a kind of grim resoluteness about him. Like he was on a mission. He had a thing to do, and he was going to do it. …or die trying. 

“The Velvet Glove is above Eternia.” Skeletor told her as if this explained everything. 

Evil-Lyn only stared at him. That statement did, actually, explain a little of his behavior. The Velvet Glove was the flagship of Horde Prime, the leader of the Imperial Horde and despotic Ruler of the Universe. Many years ago, in another life, as another person, Skeletor had been aboard the Velvet Glove. Briefly. 

It was a fool’s mission and she told him as much then too. But Keld- Skeletor had been determined. His clone informant- his coconspirator- his… lover told him Prime had something. That it was kept aboard the Velvet Glove. Skeletor was determined to get it. 

He never got it. 

But in the process of trying, he lost his lover and his face. 

Now Skeletor was charging off to get back aboard that deathtrap of an enemy ship. 

“Why?” Evil-Lyn demanded. 

Skeletor paused in his stride, turning to face her. Fixing Evil-Lyn with the full glare of that unmoving skull face of his with its skeleton grin. “Remember that flash of light from a couple months ago?” He said. “There was a signal in it from a lost clone trooper. I didn’t think much of it at the time because what would Prime care about one lost unit? But he’s here now. The Velvet Glove is just a few hundred-million kilometers away from Snake Mountain.”

“I didn’t mean why’s the Velvet Glove here!” Evil-Lyn snapped at him, crossing her arms over her chest and planting her feet, blocking his path to… wherever he was going. “I meant, why do you seem like you’re about to charge off to it?”

He paused. If Skeletor still had eyelids, Evil-Lyn was sure he’d be blinking at her. But he didn’t have eyelids. Skeletor didn’t even have eyes. Just the darkness from his empty eye sockets looked out at her. As if he didn’t understand the question. 

“I want Prime.” He said. “I want revenge.”

“If you go back to the Velvet Glove, you’ll die.” She told him outright. No dancing around worlds, no qualifiers to give either of them doubt or hope. It wasn’t ‘probably die’. It was ‘you will die’. “They’ll kill you before you could ever get to Prime.”

Skeletor squeezed past her. Panthor brushing by as well, the Dylinx’s tail flicking from side to side in anticipation. 

“That’s fine.” Skeletor told her, not turning his back. He didn’t care if she heard him or not. “Then, at least I’ll be with him again.”


	11. Out of the Frying Pan

“How’re you even gonna get to the Velvet Glove?” Demanded Evil-Lyn. 

She had to sprint a bit to keep pace with him. Skeletor was not actually any taller than her, they were in fact almost the same height. But he had a quick stride and walked with the speed of purpose. 

“The same way I get to anywhere on Eternia.” Skeletor supplied as if this should have been obvious. 

Skeletor traversed the majority of the planet using teleportation magic. He was a very powerful sorcerer, and teleporting meant avoiding Horde patrols, and Heroic Warrior factions alike. But, teleporting was also higher level magic that could be very draining depending on the distance. A quick little jaunt from Snake Mountain to Castle Grayskull, or from Castle Grayskull to Eternos was no big deal. Skeletor could make that commute easily. (Not that he ever would.) But teleporting from Snake Mountain up into orbit? Evil-Lyn was skeptical even he could make that jump without help. A magical item to boost his power, or, another sorcerer to help…

Evil-Lyn sighed. “What makes you think I’m gonna help you?”

“I’m not asking you to come with me, Lyn.” Skeletor assured her. “I just need a boost. Then- I’ll never bother you again.”

“That’s the part that bothers me!” She snapped. 

Skeletor could be so frustrating some times. He had always been frustrating. Even before he was Skeletor. He was always emotional and dramatic, taking to extremes. When his mother was killed, he tracked down the culprit and slaughtered them without hesitation. But they were also one of his father’s allies, so in his haste to cover it up, he gave credit for the kill to a Horde clone. When his father pulled him from the line of inheritance, naming his youngest brother as heir instead, he turned his father into the occupying Horde. He made decisions based on his emotions. That was how he always did things. Even before he was Skeletor. 

Now he was making another emotionally driven decision. Charge onto Prime’s ship and get himself killed. ‘Never bother her again’ indeed.

“You don’t have to tell me.” He told her. “But I’m going no matter what. You can either give me a power boost, or I can just be too tired by the time I get there to do anything.”

They reached one of the wide empty chambers in the abandoned castle. Perfect for casting complicated spells. Skeletor had even prepared a circle with complicated sigils on the floor for his teleportation spell. He was doing this. Whether she helped him or not. 

Signing in resignation, Evil-Lyn lifted her staff. “I don’t even know why I’m friends with you.”

Standing in the center of the circle, Skeletor raised his own Havoc Staff.

Power crackled in the air between them, and the circle around Skeletor’s feet glowed. The skull of his face tilted upwards, looking at the castle ceiling, trying to invasion the sky beyond it and the space ship that hovered there. Picturing his destination in his mind. He had only been aboard the Velvet Glove once, but it was a memorable experience. 

‘But- The Sword-!’

‘But your life, Keldor!’

Skeletor would never forget. 

Power engulfed him. There was a flash of blue light. Then the circle was empty and Skeletor was gone. 

Evil-Lyn was left standing in an empty room. Inexplicably shocked. For some reason, she didn’t actually think he’d do it. Go to the Velvet Glove. She thought he would change his mind at the last second. Teleport somewhere else, then come right back. Not actually return to the place where he lost his face. The place where his lover died. Evil-Lyn placed a horrified hand over her mouth as she realized, she would never see her friend again. 

And her last words to him were, ‘I don’t even know why I’m friends with you.’

“You better come back alive.” She muttered to the ceiling. “So, I can kill your dumbass myself!”

…

Skeletor had no idea where aboard the Velvet Glove he landed. 

From all appearances, it was just some random hallway. 

Some random hallways that was full of clone troopers! They blinked solid glowing eyes at him, shocked by his sudden appearance. But they didn’t stay shocked for long. Each one reaching for their weapons upon registering that an alien intruder, and his cat, had just appeared in their midst. 

The business ends of several metal blades, energy blades, or projectile weapons were thrust in Skeletor’s face. Panthor bared his fangs at them, tail puffing up to twice its normal size. 

_“Myeeh!”_ Skeletor taunted the clones, unimpressed. 

He raised his Havoc Staff above his head and set off a flash of light that temporarily blinded them. The whole group of clones staggering backways, their hands over their eyes, the nictitating eyelids of their eyes pinched shut was they tried to recover from the flash. 

Skeletor jumped on Panthor’s back and the Dylinx wove his way between them, moving quickly. Skeletor didn’t know where they were on the ship. They needed to find an intersection with markings of some kind. Skeletor needed to get to Prime. 

The last time he was here, he was in the company of one who knew the ship well. Not just the layout, but the tech that ran it, the security measures, the weaknesses, the personnel schedules. But Skeletor had none of that knowledge this time. He didn’t have opportunity to case the ship before teleporting onto it. All he had were his out dated memories of the first time he was aboard the Velvet Glove. 

If memory served him correctly, Prime usually kept to his private chambers, only coming out for war meetings in the conference room, or audiences in the throne room. Prime’s private chambers would be the most heavily guarded on the ship. 

Panthor turned a corner, and then skidded to a halt. Dipping his head low so that the majority of his head was blocked by his helmet, back arcing up so that Skeletor had a clearer offensive shot at the other clones they just turned onto. 

Three of them in total. Two escorting the third –whom was shackled in energy cuffs. The cuffed one looked pretty bad off too. Shockingly thin for a Horde clone, not wearing their standard uniform, and with strange markings almost like slashes on his face and neck that were an unnaturally bright violet color. Obviously a prisoner. 

“Halt!” The two guards shouted at the same time, both letting go of the one they escorted, to reach for their weapons. 

“You!” Shouted the prisoner clone in the middle. 

Skeletor raised his Havoc Staff and began a quick offensive spell. A disc of indigo light shot from his staff and caught one clone guard in the face. He began the same spell again for the second one, but then the prisoner clone did something Skeletor did not expect. 

Finding himself no longer held between his brothers, he charged at Skeletor. Arms still bound, he barreled into the other man, jumping over Panthor’s head to throw the whole weight of his body against Skeletor’s chest. Both men fell off the Dylinx’s back and went tumbling to the ground. The clone prisoner on top. 

Unable to use his hands, the clone pinned Skeletor to the ground with a knee to the chest. 

“I was pulled through the portal because of you!” Snarled the prisoner. Red eyes blazing, lips curling back as he shouted to display redder-than-red fangs. 

Most of the clone’s weight was on his chest, but his legs were free. Skeletor lifted one leg, twisting at the waist and bending the knee so that he could hook his ankle around the clone’s neck and force him off. Within the space of a moment, and a blur of blue and gray limbs their positions were reversed with Skeletor pinning the clone prisoner to the floor. 

“Portal?” He echoed. The only clone he ever saw get sucked into a portal was Hode’s-

He was cut off mid-thought when the remaining guard remembered that they were a soldier, and they had weapons. A throwing blade careened through the air. If Skeletor still had his pointed ears, the blade would have cut right through it. Instead, it just missed him, passing dangerously close to the side of his skull. 

Skeletor dodged the second projectile, and Panthor jumped on the clone guard. Jaws finding the neck and biting down hard. Dark purple clone blood splattered over the walls and dripped from Panthor’s jaws. That was one enemy they wouldn’t have to worry about again. 

Skeletor climbed up off the floor. Leaving the prisoner clone on the floor, still cuffed, but otherwise unrestrained. He didn’t even look back at the sickly looking clone when he told him, “Don’t get in my way again. If you’re smart, you’ll take this opportunity to escape. You won’t get a better chance.”

He climbed back on Panthor’s back and the Dylinx galloped down the corridor and around another corner. 

Finally, a deck number and quadrant code!

Skeletor studied the Imperial script. The Horde’s writing system was much simpler and straight forward compared to Eternian (or even Garish). It only took him a moment to realize he had teleported onto one of the command decks. Not the command bridge, but the deck that included the war room, conference/strategy rooms, and throne room. Skeletor remembered the prisoner that was being escorted away. 

If Prime was making an example of him in a public forum, he might still be in the throne room. If he was, there would be a lot of clones to fight though. But it would be worth it if he could get to Prime. 

That was all he wanted. 

The rest of them could kill him if they wanted. Just so long as he took Horde Prime down with him. 

Skeletor heard heavy breathing behind him and looked back to see the prisoner clone sprinting after him, his hands still bound in the energy cuffs. 

“You don’t remember me!” He snarled. 

“Your face always look like that?” Skeletor asked him, not caring for an answer. He wasn’t here to make any new clone friends. He kicked his heels, urging Panthor to keep moving. Ignored the clone prisoner that appeared to be a slow learner and wasn’t taking advantage of Skeletor’s distraction to escape. 

He made it to the corridor he wanted. 

The throne room was empty. The double doors slid open so that one could admire the large cathedral windows, even passing from the hallway. But there was no one in it. No gathered clones, no soldiers in formation, not even the four of the cabinet. The throne itself was empty. Panthor sniffed at the floor and shook his head. Prime was not here. 

Skeletor urged his mount to continue down the corridor. 

If Prime wasn’t in his throne room, it was likely he wasn’t even on this deck at all. He could be on a higher level. In his private chambers above the ship. But Skeletor was nothing if not thorough. He had to check everywhere before charging the climb up the ship to the more heavily guarded Sanctum.

He saw Hordwing before he saw the other. 

Wearing that absurdly tight zerosuit, as if he were about to jump in the cockpit of a batwing. All white apart from the Horde emblem on his chest. The wings climbing over the shoulders to turn into stripes going all the way down the arms, to the tips of his fingers. Hordwing dressed differently than any other member of Prime’s cabinet, and he stood out. 

But the rest came around the corner just half a step behind him. 

Red Hord in his short jacket in place of a cape, the Horde emblem on the shoulder and back. Hodren in the older more vintage combat tights and overpants. And Hodrake, wearing a long cape that covered the majority of his uniform and also hid his weapons. 

Then, finally, Skeletor saw Prime. Coming around the corner almost last. Immersed in a conversation with Hodrake, as if the young clone were the most interesting man in the universe. 

For half a moment, Skeletor was thrown back to that night. To the last time he was aboard the Velvet Glove. To the night he lost Hode. 

‘But- The Sword-!’

‘But your life, Keldor!’

Fleeing the Sanctum after discovery. Dropping the Sword as he ran. Being pulled along by his partner and unable to go back for it. Of being cornered, then narrowly managing to slip through. Of being forced to detour. Of Hode squeezing his hand as they ran. Stopping by one of the ship’s many escape pods. An impromptu kiss he was not prepared for. Then being shoved hard, hard enough that he fell back into a suddenly open escape pod, the hatch slamming shut without Hode joining him inside. Banging his fists on the pod’s port-hole window, begging his partner not to stay behind. They didn’t need their escape to be covered. The last thing he saw before Hode managed to slam his fist down on the launch button was a squad of clone troopers overpowering him. 

If Skeletor still had eyes, he would have blinked. Instead, he shook his head to dislodge the memory. 

Forcibly, as an act of sheer will, he replaced the feelings of desperation from that night with the almost blinding rage that came after it. Rage, focused solely on one man. 

“Pri~ime!” 

Skeletor urged Panthor onward, demanding more speed from the giant cat. He stood up in the saddle, not caring for balance, then jumped out of it. Launching himself over the four Lords of the cabinet. Aiming for Horde Prime. 

Skeletor dropped his Havoc Staff, opting instead for the twin swords strapped across his back. 

He brought both weapons down with him. The momentum of his jump, and the muscle of his arms combining to put as much force into the blow as was possible. 

The blow did not connect. 

At the last second, Hodrake shoved Horde Prime to the side and out of the way. He brought his own weapon up to deflect the blow. 

Skeletor’s swords slid to the side. Raking against the metal shaft of the clone’s bo-staff, causing the two to spark. 

Skeletor came down from his jump, almost fumbling his landing. He staggered, off balance for a half a moment and almost lost what was left of his head. 

Hordwing behind him drew his own weapons, twin shock batons, to attack the intruder. 

Skeletor had to move quickly and do some fancy arm work to get one sword on each side of him. Blocking the attack from Hordwing behind him, and Hodrake in front of him. 

The clone prisoner from earlier came sprinting down the corridor. Turning the corner, he froze, seeing the intruder attacking Horde Prime and his ruling cabinet. He stood there, crimson eyes wide, mouth hanging open. What kind of idiot tried to attack the Emperor of the Universe?

Then it finally processed through his head that this intruder was attacking his Emperor and Creator. 

Hands still bound, the prisoner sprinted down the corridor, running past Panthor, and threw himself against the intruder like he did before. 

The front of Skeletor’s skull smacked against the wall and he saw stars behind where his eyes used to be. 

He knew he was going to be outnumbers when he teleported up here. That was part of the deal in a suicide mission. 

He was not expecting one of the cabinet members to grab the cuffed clone –that had just attacked him and was clearly trying to protect their Brother- and slam his head against the wall right next to Skeletor. 

Red Hord shoved the barrel of his weapon between the clone prisoner’s shoulder blades. “Your ally did not plan this escape very well, Zero-Zero-Three.”

“He is not my ally!” The clone tried to protest. 

Skeletor turned his head. “Zero-Zero-Three? Are you… Hode’s Zero-Zero-Three?”

Chest pressed up against the wall, Red Hord’s weapon digging into his back, the clone prisoner turned his head to aim a glare at Skeletor. ‘You don’t remember me.’ His glowing eyes seemed to repeat. ‘I was pulled through the portal because of you!’ The only clone Skeletor had ever been present to witness falling into a spontaneous portal was Hode’s favorite. The one Hode set up to take his place on the cabinet. The one Hode wanted Skeltor to give his deamon to. The one that found him again on Snake Mountain, but fell into a flash of light before any words could be exchanged. Hode’s Zero-Zero-Three. 

Skeletor gave the clone prisoner a more critical examination. 

He was much changed from the last time Skeletor saw him. No longer wearing a standard, or approved uniform of the Imperial Horde. Much, much thinner than he used to be. And scarred. Three bright violet slashes cutting down over one eye, and matching gashes on the neck. All filled in and artificially healed with synthetic skin that did not match the color of his natural skin. And he was wearing armor of an alien design. 

Skeletor heard more than felt himself gasp, noticing the crystal on the armor for the first time. A battery crystal. Probably the source powering the armor. Eternian technology, but old. Outdated. But that wasn’t the interesting thing. The interesting thing was the word etched into the crystal. A word written in Eternian, in his own language. It wasn’t a language known by the clones of Horde Prime. Horde Prime did not program his clones with the ability to read it. Skeletor could read it, it was his own language, and it said LUVD. This clone, Zero-Zero-Three, was beloved by another Eternian. Just like Hode was beloved by Keldor. 

…and just like Hode was killed and Keldor had to go on living, this clone would be killed and their own Eternian lover would have to go on without them. 

Spinning around, back flattening against the corridor wall, Skeletor sank into a crouch. Throwing one hand out to him, he called to his Havoc Staff. The staff went careening through the air, low to the floor, and knocked the legs out from under Hodren and Red Hord. Hordwing jumped at the last moment, doing an unnecessary backflip to avoid the magical poll that had just knocked his comrades to the floor. 

Skeletor cast a quick spell, interrupting the energy band that kept Zero-Zero-Three’s cuffs connected, rendering the metal binders no more than bracelets. He passed one of his swords to the clone. Muttering a quick, “For Hode.”

The clone just stood there. Blinking. As if confused and not understanding. 

Havoc Staff in one hand, sword in the other, Skeletor made another charge for Prime. 

Only to be blocked by Zero-Zero-Three with the very sword Skeletor just gave him. 

“What are you doing!?” Skeletor demanded, suddenly having to twist out of the way of another attack from Hodrake, and duck under a shock baton swung by Hordwing. 

“I won’t let you hurt my Brother!” Zero-Zero-Three announced. 

Behind them, Panthor jumped on Hodren, mauling the clone before he could impale Skeletor on his energy blade. 

Skeletor used the opportunity to back up, putting some distance between himself and his opponent, falling into formation with his feline ally. He glared at Zero-Zero-Three as if the younger man had personally betrayed him. “Are you stupid!? Aren’t you their prisoner? Didn’t Prime throw you away?”

Zero-Zero-Three faltered. Unsure. Skeletor saw his ears droop. 

Panthor growled at Skeletor’s side and the sorcerer doubled down on Zero-Zero-Three. “How can you still fight for Prime after he killed Hode!”

If those were drooping before, they flat out sank now. Hanging off the sides of his head, brows arching, and glowing eyes widening. “W-what? No, that’s not- Lord Hode was old… He died of- natural causes…?”

Skeletor saw the turmoil on his face. No Horde clone had ever been recorded dying of natural causes. Horde clone deaths were all battlefield deaths, or executions. Zero-Zero-Three looked back at Horde Prime. 

Prime frowned, the corners of his mouth turning down severely. He was not amused by the little drama beginning to play out in the corridor. “This is absurd.” He growled. “Zero-Zero-Three, kill the alien.”

Zero-Zero-Three turned back to Skeletor. His ears were still drooping, but he hefted the sword in his hands, raising the blade. Horde clones were trained in all weapons, or at least, programed with the knowledge of how to use them while still in the tanks. But Skeletor could tell by set of his grip and the tension in his shoulders that he was not an experienced swordsman. In fact, Zero-Zero-Three’s posture kinda reminded Skeletor of Randor, back when he was only just ten years old and still learning the blade. 

Skeletor could take him out easily. 

But Zero-Zero-Three did not advance. 

He looked back at Prime again. He sounded so small to Skeletor. Like a lost little child. “Hode did die of natural causes?” He said it like a statement, but pitched it as a question. “What does he mean you killed Hode?”

In front of Prime, Hordwing looked away. He was also there aboard the Velvet Glove that night. Skeletor remembered him. He was one of the ones that pulled Hode away from the escape pod. Skeletor didn’t think Hordwing was the one to strike the killing blow, but he definitely would have seen the death blow. 

At Hordwing’s side, Red Hord put his face in his palm. That was not a question a loyal clone asked their Brother. Hell! That wasn’t even a question a smart clone asked his Brother. Zero-Zero-Three basically just told Prime that his loyalty was conditional. 

Prime demanded unconditional loyalty from his clones. 

“Kill him.” Prime ordered simply. It was ambiguous as to whom he was speaking about –or whom he was speaking to. 

Hodrake wove between Wing and Red, weapon in hands. He swung at Zero-Zero-Three. 

Not making a conscious decision, just acting on impulse, Skeletor also rushed forward, grabbed Zero-Zero-Three by the elbow and yanked the stunned and confused clone out of the path of the blow. Hodrake’s bo-staff just barely grazed the tip of one still drooping ear. 

Skeletor didn’t know what he was doing. He came up here to kill Prime –or die trying. It was a suicide mission. Nothing more. Rescuing a disgraced clone was not part of it. 

But, while Skeletor didn’t exactly know what he was doing, he did at least know why. 

This was Zero-Zero-Three. This was Hode’s favorite. He and Hode had, had very long conversations about the younger clone. Hode praised his military competence, and delighted in the fact that the younger clone asked questions. He told Keld- Skeletor –of Zero-Zero-Three’s condition and Hode lamented the fact that he would probably outlive his younger brother. And he explained how Zero-Zero-Three figured into some of Hode’s contingencies on the off chance that the younger clone outlived him instead. Zero-Zero-Three was Hode’s ‘very favorite brother’.

“Stay behind me, idiot.” Skeletor growled to the clone. 

Pulled off balance, Zero-Zero-Three stumbled, dropped the sword, then fell flat on his ass behind Skeletor. 

Hodrake swung his staff again and Skeletor deflected the blow with his own Havoc Staff. 

Red Hord and Hordwing both recovered and brought their own weapons back up. 

Skeletor was out numbered. He was always outnumbered. He knew he would be go in. That was not the point. Now, all of a sudden, he cared about something other than himself. He had a reason to get back out alive. Now, he was rethinking the wisdom of coming up here alone. (If he ever got home, he was gonna have to look Evil-Lyn in the eyes and listen to her say ‘I told you so’.)

At least Panthor had taken care of Hodren. He was still on the floor, the Dylinx’s paws on his back, dark purple blood pumping out of him. Hodren would not be getting back up. 

Staff in one hand, sword in the other, Skeletor parried and deflected blows from both Hodrake and Hordwing. He kept his attention on the two opponents near him, but he was also keenly aware of Red Hord whom used a pair of burst pistols that were different from regular hand-held fire arms. They did not fire a beam of energy, but rather solid projectiles of ammunition, made of copper and lead. Luckily for Skeletor at the moment, Lord Red Hord’s fellow cabinet members were between him and his target and he could not get a clear shot. 

Together, Hodrake and Wing pushed Skeletor back. The back of his ankle pressed against Zero-Zero-Three’s knee. 

“Get up!” Skeletor snarled over his shoulder. “Pick up my sword and get up!”

Zero-Zero-Three did not move. He just sat there, glancing between Skeletor and his brothers, as if he still hadn’t figured out what was going on here. “I will not harm my Brother.”

Skeletor made a clicking sound with his tongue to signal Panthor to pick up the dead weight that Zero-Zero-Three seemed to insist on being. 

The Dylinx closed his jaws around one shoulder of the clone’s armor, then swung his head violently to fling Zero-Zero-Three up into the air. He landed on the cat’s back. Slumping over the saddle like a disgruntled saddlebag. 

Skeletor struck Hordwing in the stomach with the pummel of the hilt, forcing the clone to stagger backwards. Then he sheathed that sword over his back and bent down to pick up the sword Zero-Zero-Three had dropped, twisting to avoid an attack by Hodrake. 

He and Panthor kept backing up, being pushed down the corridor. 

When they reached the end of the corridor, Skeletor pointed with his Havoc Staff while he blocked an attack with his sword. “That way!” He shouted for Panthor. 

The Dylinx sprinted in the direction he pointed, carrying Zero-Zero-Three bouncing over the saddle. 

It was as they were turning the corner that Hordwing and Hodrake moved enough for Red Hord to get a clear enough shot at Skeletor. With all the motion and adrenaline his aim wasn’t great, but the solid lead and copper projectile did manage to graze Skeletor’s exposed arm. Up high, near the shoulder. 

He left a trail of bright red blood as he retreated with Panthor and Zero-Zero-Three. 

“Why has no one signaled a Red Alert?” Prime demanded. “We have an intruder on my ship who has just attempted to assonate me!” He gave Hodren’s motionless body an experimental kick. “They killed a member of my cabinet. Lock down the ship. All the airlocks and escape pods. Hordwing, have your pilots do a sweep of the hangars, and remain there to guard. Shut down the lifts, and sweep the utility stairways. I want every millimeter of the ship checked. Do not let the intruder or Zero-Zero-Three escape!”

“Yes, Your Grace!” All three remaining cabinet Lords choired at once. 

Leading Panthor, whom was still carrying a protesting Zero-Zero-Three over his back, Skeletor navigated the corridors of the Velvet Glove having only a vague memory of the ship’s layout from his one visit many years ago. 

He did remember that the last time he was here, it took them a while to respond. He managed to make his way all the way into Prime private chambers. His innermost Sanctum. He was holding the Sword in his hands, the blade reflecting the green tinted light of that macabre tank he kept. It was only as he and Hode were trying to make their exit that things went sideways. 

Skeletor knew he would not be so lucky this time. When the lights dimmed, flashing red and he heard the alarm siren blare, he knew they were probably already locking down parts of the ship. The lifts would be useless. Even if one did open to let him in, it would not open again to let him out. Veering to the left, Skeletor did not even try the lift. Instead leading Panthor to the utility stairs. 

Utility stair doors did not run off ship’s power and had to be slid open manually. Skeletor shut it behind himself and Panthor, then lead then down several floors before finally stopping to pause. 

He looked at the Dylinx and the horde clone. Neither of them looked particularly happy. 

Grabbing Zero-Zero-Three by the arm, Skeletor pulled him off the cat. “That’s not how you sit in a saddle. It’s uncomfortable for the mount.”

“I do not wish to ride your filthy animal!” Zero-Zero-Three informed him. He even took a step away from the Dylinx, reaching a hand up to stroke the scars cutting down through his eyes. His past experiences led him to dislike cats. “Why have you taken me? I should apprehend you right now and take you back to Prime!”

Skeletor noted that while Zero-Zero-Three threatened this, he did not actually make any advances or physical steps to overpower him and drag him back to Prime. If Skeletor still had lips, he would have smirked at him. “If you did that, you’d never learn what happened to Hode.”

Zero-Zero-Three faltered again. Unsure what to think. “Lord- Lord Hode died of natural causes. He was… very old. For a clone.”

Skeletor just continued to fix Zero-Zero-Three with an eyeless stare. He was never really sure of the exact number when it came to ages. The Imperial Horde measured their years differently than Eternia did. But, he was sure of at least an approximation. “The age that you are now, is older than Hode was when he died.”

Those red eyes went wide with disbelief, then narrowed again as he thought. Skeletor watched his lips move as Zero-Zero-Three did some internal math. Calculating how long he’d been gone. How much time he spent in… wherever he went when that inexplicable portal spontaneously transported him away from Snake Mountain. 

“That cannot be right.” He muttered. More to himself than to Skeletor. Zero-Zero-Three looked at his hand. “How can he have died…” the hand moved to caress his armor, from the crystal at his throat down the sternum “…when I remain living…?”

‘Because they killed Hode, and they did not kill you.’ Skeletor had the answer ready to go. On the tip of… whatever he had instead of a tongue now. But he was cut off before the statement could make it past the teeth of his bare jaw. 

They heard them before they saw them. Three clones wearing standard issue uniforms and wearing security personnel badges. The Horde was responding much more quickly this time compared to the last time Skeletor had to make an escape from the Velvet Glove. They were already sweeping the hallways. 

“If you’re going to help, I’ll lend you a sword.” Skeletor whispered at him. “But if you’re just gonna stand there and cry some more you can stick close to Panthor and stay out of the way. I’ll get you out of here, Zero-Zero-Three.” A pause. “For Hode.”

“Why would I wish to leave the Velvet Glove?” The clone hissed back. “This is where I am meant to be.”

“Horde Prime literally just told the others to kill you just now.” Skeletor reminded him. “Trust me, you want to get out.”

“No. He was telling me to kill you.” The clone continued to argue. Then raised his voice so the ones coming up the stairs could hear. “Brothers! The intruder is here!”

Skeletor smacked the smooth bone of his forehead. “My goddess! You are a slow learner!” He leaned his Havoc Staff against the wall, it was too long to be an efficient weapon in these closed quarters. Then redrew both his swords. “Panthor, stay with the idiot. If he tries to run or help the enemy, bite him in some non-vital place.”

The trio was coming up the stairs. There were three of them to Skeletor’s one. But the narrowness of the stairs thinned their numbers, and Skeletor had the high ground. 

He kicked the first clone into his brothers, and the three of them went tumbling down the stairs. Stepping down to meet them, Skeletor slit the first one’s throat. Killing him almost instantly and causing the dead weight of his body to pin the others down. He slit the other two’s throats while they still struggled to disentangle themselves from the first body. 

“Let’s go!” Skeletor shouted up to Panthor and Zero-Zero-Three. “And this time, keep your mouth shut and don’t draw them to us!”

“I will not aid an intruder who-!” Whatever Zero-Zero-Three was going to say was cut off when Panthor closed his teeth over the clone’s armor again and dragged him down the stairs to join Skeletor. “Release me, you filthy animal!” 

Skeletor stroked Panthor’s head affectionately. Dylinx were not easily tamed, but they were highly intelligent and if one was lucky enough to befriend one, they made the best companions. “You can either ride Panthor properly, or else be dragged by his teeth. It’s up to you, Three.”

Zero-Zero-Three made a hmph of displeasure. Neither option seemed agreeable to him. 

Skeletor re-sheathed his swords and called his Havoc Staff back to his hand. “Don’t pout at me. I raised my younger brothers. I’m immune to childish tantrums.” 

“I am not a child!” Zero-Zero-Three sounded so irrationally insulted. “My kind have no children.”

“And yet-“ With one arm, Skeletor hoisted Zero-Zero-Three over one shoulder. He was lighter than the average Horde clone, probably due to all the weight loss, and plopped him back down again on Panthor’s back. This time sitting in the saddle properly. “Stay on him and don’t get in my way.”

They continued down the stairs. 

Skeletor paused at every landing to check the deck number and listen for other footsteps either above or below them. The party that Skeletor already killed was coming up from the lower decks. But the Velvet Glove’s security would also sent a party down from the upper decks. He didn’t expect to run into anyone else heading down until they reached their destination. But it was only a matter of time before the second security party found their fallen brothers. Skeletor bit his thumb, trying to think of a plan. 

He didn’t expect to be leaving alive when he first teleported up here, and so hadn’t planned any escapes. 

“Tell me what you think really happened to Hode.” Commanded the clone riding Panthor. “If you want me to cooperate with you, you have to give me a reason.”

Last time, Hode took him to an escape pod. But Prime would be expecting that this time. Any escape pods that lined the outer hull would already be locked down and under guard. Skeletor couldn’t get them out that way. That left going to one of the hangers. Steal a shuttle that could hold all of them. Or, worst case scenario, a batwing with a prisoner pod large enough to hold Panthor. 

“Are you listening to me?” Zero-Zero-Three demanded. 

Skeletor looked back at him. Sitting in the saddle properly this time. Arms crossed over his chest. Looking disgruntled and frustrated. Cobalt hair rumpled and falling in front of his face. But he was still a Horde clone. More than that, he used to be a cabinet Lord. One of four lieutenants that helped Prime rule and control the universe. He would know they layout of the ship better than Skeletor would. 

“Can you get us to one of the hangers?” He asked. “We need to get out of here.”

“Tell me about Hode.” Zero-Zero-Three haggled. 

If he still had soft tissue, Skeletor would have bitten the inside of his cheek in impatience. They did not have time to argue. “Hode was my partner.”

“I know that!” Snapped Zero-Zero-Three, sounding just as impatient as Skeletor felt, thought for entirely different reasons. “Hode gave you his daemon. I want to know why? Why were you partners? Why did Hode trust you? He was a Lord in the cabinet of Horde Prime, ruler and Emperor of the Known Universe. You-“ he paused, trying to come up with the correct descriptor “-appear to be some kind of terrorist, or guerilla rebel.”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet!?” Skeletor snapped. “I know you’re slow, but I didn’t expect you to be outright stupid. Hode was a rebel spy! Hode was my spy.”

There was a beat of a pause. 

Zero-Zero-Three’s glowing eyes narrowed at him. “You lie!” He snarled. “Lord Hode was a member of Prime’s cabinet!”

“Yeah.” Agreed Skeletor. “And?”

“Why would he betray the Empire?” Zero-Zero-Three was getting very frustrated that he seemed to have to spell out his questions for this alien insurgent. 

For half a moment, Skeletor’s mind raced through all of Hode’s reasons and motivations. For a lover. For power. To be more than what he was. Revenge for Olde Revena, the home world he technically never knew, and lost culture he never belonged to. All were reasons Hode had for betraying his Emperor and Creator. But they all boiled down to the same thing. At their core. Hode wanted… more. He wanted something greater than himself. 

The Horde had no legends and mythologies. No far reaching histories, or heroic figures cloaked in glory. But other planets did. Other races did. That was what he wanted. Something larger than himself to believe in. A hero, a deity, a concept, an idea. An Empire free of Horde Prime’s stagnant views and strict control. An Empire with free exchange of culture and ideas. Of artistic fusions and musical mash-ups. An Empire wherein Hode could experience and revel in ‘culture’ which was denied him under Prime. 

“What is the Empire?” Skeletor finally asked, answering Zero-Zero-Three’s question with one if his own. 

Zero-Zero-Three was taken aback. Blinking those crimson glowing eyes in shock. As if that were the last thing he expected this would-be assassin to ask him. Inexplicably, Zero-Zero-Three was thrown back in time. To the last time he spoke to Hode. Their final parting before the older clone’s death, then he left Zero-Zero-Three behind on that alien world. 

‘Whom do you serve?’

‘The Empire.’

‘What is the Empire?’

“Horde Prime is the Empire.” The clone argued. 

“Is he?” Asked Skeletor. “Or is Horde Prime just one man? A man who happens to be at the top, yes, but still just a single individual. Could the Empire not also be every planet and every star under his rule? Could the Empire not be the races that live and work under his rule to provide and maintain the technology your military so readily enjoys? Could the Empire not be the children who grow up knowing nothing but Hode rule? Could the Empire not be the angry youth who see your soldiers and think there must be something more? Could the Empire not be the parents who see their children growing up not knowing of anything else? Could the Empire not be two individuals united by a common interest and working towards a common goal?”

Zero-Zero-Three frowned. ‘Parents’ and ‘children’ were concepts he recognized as an outsider before, but became more familiar with on Etheria. As was ‘angry youth’. He understood them better than when he was a Force Captain under Lord Hode, or even a Territory Captain ruling a planet. But he felt they did not apply to him. Horde clones had no ‘children’ or ‘parents’. They were all brothers. Zero-Zero-Three was not compelled by the mere mention of them. In fact, he was a little annoyed. 

Individuals united by a common goal, however, that did strike a chord with him. Zero-Zero-Three thought of Entrapta. Of the two of them working together in his Sanctum. Improving his power source. Constructing the portal. Protecting each other from lab accidents. Building his armor. Lifting each other up, and making each other stronger with their partnership. That was a concept Zero-Zero-Three could understand. If Horde Prime never came for him, if he remained on Etheria until his failing body finally expired… Entrapta could have been his ‘Empire’.

“Hode did serve the Empire.” Skeletor told him. “He just did not serve Horde Prime.”

The clone raised a single brow. “Is this an absurd way of trying to tell me that Hode served you?”

There was another beat of a pause. 

“We served each other.” Skeletor finally stated. “That’s what partners do.” 

Zero-Zero-Three frowned at that statement, thinking about Entrapta again. She was his Lab Partner. They were also partners. But did he serve her as well as she served him? 

He was alarmed to realize that he didn’t think he did. He should have served her better. …before he left.

“Now, if you’re done wasting time,” Skeletor cut off his trail of thought, “take us to one of the hangars!”

…


	12. Escape the Velvet Glove

Kyle always felt out of place everywhere he went. There wasn’t a single place on Etheria where he truly felt comfortable. He always somehow managed to feel in the way, or a hindrance, like he was occupying a space that was not meant to be occupied, or that he was not welcome. But nothing made him feel more unwelcome or out of place than the meeting room in the palace of Brightmoon. 

It was so wide, with open arches that let in a cool breeze off the bay. Nothing in the Fright Zone was ever so open and airy. Everything in the Fright Zone was enclosed spaces, steel plating, and metal boxes. It was also very, very bright. With natural lighting streaming in through the high arches. As if the natural lighting coming in wasn’t enough, there was also a soft glow emanating from the chandelier above the meeting table. Nothing in the Fright Zone was ever as well lit. Not even the outside. The Fright Zone was all smog layers and haze. Florescent indoor lights, most of which were burnt out. Dim rooms and narrow corridors. 

Kyle always felt out of place, but in Brightmoon, he felt out of place of being out of place. 

Under the table, Rogelio wrapped his clawed hand around Kyle’s. He wasn’t used to this either. He also felt out of place here in Brightmoon. Perhaps not to the extent that Kyle felt out of place. Kyle straight-up felt like an alien. But, at least out of place enough to understand and empathize with his companion’s discomfort. 

Across from them, Bow and Adora sat flanking Queen Glimmer. 

The room was uncomfortably silent. 

The last time Kyle or Rogelio saw the other three was when Bow and Glimmer broke into the Fright Zone to rescue Adora from Hordak. The event that ended with Catra opening a portal that ripped apart the very fabric of time and space and nearly killed them all. Before that, every single interaction any of them had was equally violent or threatening. They had absolutely no foundation with which to build a working relationship. 

Well, almost no foundation. 

Kyle, and Adora did grow up together. They were kinda like siblings. In fact, being the only two blond kids in the Fright Zone, some people often mistook them for twins. 

“Hey, Adora, remember that time Catra was fighting with the older cadets and you and her came running into the barracks and hid under my bunk so when they came in, they beat all of us up together?” Kyle chuckled as if this were a fond childhood memory. Except nobody else was laughing. Adora cringed visibly. And Kyle realized it was not a wholesome bonding experience he meant it to sound like. It was not a fun memory at all. 

Bow and Glimmer exchanged a look. Then looked at Adora together. Growing up in the Fright Zone sounded terrifying for everyone. It was amazing she managed to turn out as ‘stable and well adjusted’ as she did. 

Glimmer put on the best fake smile she could must up. “In her message, Lonnie mentioned wanting to make peace with the Alliance.” She began. “We’d like to know how serious she was about that. We might never be allies, but can we at least count on her not to side with our enemies?”

Looking confused, both Kyle and Rogelio exchanged a look between themselves. What enemies? As far as they knew, the only enemies the Princess Alliance had were, well, them. 

“Lonnie’s fixing and rebuilding things.” He told them. “She doesn’t want another war. She wants to repair the damage the first two decades of war did.”

Glimmer visibly let out a breath and Kyle noted that her shoulders relaxed. She had been tense. “Good.” She nodded. “Then the Etherian Horde will stay out of it when Horde Prime attacks with the rest of the Horde from outer space.”

There was another beat of silence. 

Then, “’Horde Prime’ with the… what?”

…

Entrapta could tell that something was different in the Crypto Castle the moment she set foot back inside it. It wasn’t anything distinct. Not a variable she could describe in words. If asked, Entrapta could try and explain by bringing up slight changes in the air currents of the castle, fewer scent particles of a particular person, various little things that an individual is not aware of consciously, but are possible for the subconscious mind to pick up on, and the brain to process. 

Or, perhaps she was just making an intuitive leap. 

But, Entrapta could tell something was different in the Crypto Castle when she and Scorpia arrived back to pick up some tools and more equipment. 

Hordak was gone. 

She was barely inside the gates of the castle. She hadn’t yet seen enough evidence to support the conclusion. The data was incomplete. But… somehow, Entrapta just knew. 

The corridors seemed oddly emptier, devoid of metaphorical clouds of brooding. The Horde garrison that resided in Dryl was diligent as ever, but Entrapta’s own staff –Baker, Soda Pop, and Bus Girl- seemed calmer and more at ease. 

When she got to the lab, there was no one there but Dak. 

They had gotten a bit taller since the last time she saw them. They were wearing their overalls with the straps hanging down around the waist like she liked too. Only while she did it out of more an absentmindedness about her appearance, it was clear that Dak’s straps were too short for their height. Entrapta made a mental note that this was something Scorpia would probably say was something she needed to take care of. As Dak’s ‘mother’ she should get them some new clothes that fit. 

They looked up from the bot they were working on, noted that it was Mother and Scorpia that had just walked into the lab, and smile. 

Using their hair to swing on the ceiling cables, Dak vaulted over to them. They gave Scorpia a tight hug, practically jumping on her to do so. Scorpia was teaching them the art of Great Hugs, and Dak was proving to be an adept student. When they let go, Dak turned to Entrapta. Their greeting was far less dramatically physical. Entrapta did not give hugs, and barely ever even allowed physical contact besides through her hair. 

“Mother.” Dak nodded, extending their own hair to her. “Welcome back.”

One of Entrapta’s twin tails met Dak’s mid-motion, and the two strands performed a motion that looked more like a handshake than a hug. 

“Can’t stay long.” Entrapta announced by way of a greeting. “We just gotta grab a couple of thing, then it’s back to Salineas!”

Lowering their eyes, Dak nodded again. Mother would be leaving them again. They understood. It was the deal she made with Bow and Adora in exchange for the older Hordak. Let Entrapta have the older Hordak and in return she would build weapons for them to fight Horde Prime. 

But the older Hordak was gone now. So, how did that affect Mother’s deal?

Entrapta lifted her eyes, looking over Dak’s head. She was searching the lab for someone she already knew wasn’t there. Some tall brooding shadow, lurking in a corner somewhere, the only part of him visible the ruby glow of his eyes, or the violet of his armor’s crystal. But there was none. No ruby eyes or violet crystal. No tall shadow. No looming presence. Hordak was gone. 

“Did-“ for some reason, Entrapta had difficulty asking her next question, “did he leave- alright? I mean, did Hordak leave safely?” 

Dak looked away. Of course, Mother would ask about the older Hordak. “A ship came and he got on it.” They informed her. “Now I’m the only Hordak in Dryl.”

Entrapta didn’t know how to react to that, so she didn’t react at all. Just stood there in front of the clone with an oddly blank expression on her face. She knew he was gone, she felt it the moment she set foot back inside her castle. This wasn’t a shock. She knew he was leaving. That was always his plan. Ever since before he met her. His plan was always to return to his Brother’s side. This was not shock that she was feeling. Entrapta didn’t know what name to call this emotion. She didn’t know what she was feeling, she just knew she was feeling something, and she did not like it. 

Next to her, Scorpia smiled down at Dak. “Hey, since Big Hordak is gone now and you don’t have to take care of his armor and tech anymore, wanna come with us to Salineas?”

That offer got Dak to smile again. A big goofy smile that was very similar to the Scorpia-brand of cheerful grin, but it looked slightly odd on their alien face with its sharp fangs and pointed teeth. 

“Do I!” Dak jumped up into Scorpia’s arms and gave her another tight hug. They would be going on a mission with Mother. Dak would get to work with Mother without the older Hordak in the way. It was gonna be great! 

Entrapta chewed on the inside of her cheek. Wherever he was, she hoped her Hordak had finally found the validation and fulfillment he so desperately craved from his Brother. She hoped he was happy. 

…

Zero-Zero-Three was yanked rather forcefully backwards as Skeletor grabbed him, only seconds before three projectiles impacted the corridor wall where his head had been. 

Pushing the clone behind him, Skeletor raised his Havoc Staff and sent a wave of magical energy at the group of troopers that was blocking their path. The clones all collapsed to the ground when the spell hit them and they did not get back up again. 

“Are you sure this is the easiest way to a hanger?” Skeletor demanded. 

Checking the corridor number and floor parker on the intersection plate, Zero-Zero-Three nodded. “This is the way to the nearest hangar. If you would like to try one that is farther-“

“Practice being sassy later.” Skeletor cut him off. “Keep leading.”

Following the numbers on the intersection plates, Zero-Zero-Three navigated the corridors of the Velvet Glove for Skeleotr. He still wasn’t sure he believed the alien intruder. That Hode had been a rebel spy, that Prime killed Hode, that Prime wanted to kill him. But Hode always had been… odd… Different from all of his other brothers. And Hode was associated with Skeletor in some way. Otherwise Imp would not have trusted him. 

Zero-Zero-Three didn’t fully believe that Hode was committing treason while he was alive, or that Prime executed him for it. But Hode was associated with Skeletor in some way, and Zero-Zero-Three wanted to know how. 

They turned a corner and came to a set of open blast doors. Beyond which was the wide open hanger. Rows upon rows of batwing-class fighter ships all lined up neatly. 

“Fighters!” Snarled Skeletor. The batwing-class space fighter was a single occupant vessel. “There’s three of us!”

Next to Zero-Zero-Three, Panthor gave an irritated little growl. 

If either of the were gonna say something else, they didn’t get the chance. A barrage of energy fire from standard issue arm canons rained down on them and Skeletor had to grab Zero-Zero-Three again as they dove behind the nearest batwing fighter. Panthor crouched with them, his fur all puffed out with anxiety. 

“And now we’re pinned down.” Skeletor couldn’t roll his eyes, so he did a bit of a roll and twist of his neck and head to convey the same gesture. 

“If you did not want to be pinned down behind a batwing, perhaps you should not have broken onto a Horde capital ship and attempted to assassinate Horde Prime.” Snapped Zero-Zero-Three testily. 

“Prime killed Hode!” Skeletor snarled back at him. “If you really cared about Hode you’d wanna kill Prime too!”

Zero-Zero-Three was about to snap back that Hode died of natural causes. But after doing some mental calculation, he realized that what Skeletor told him was true. The age that he was right now was older than Hode was when he died. If Hode, a properly formed and healthy clone, could die of ‘natural causes’, how come he, a defective clone with a degenerative condition, remained living? It didn’t make sense. Hode could not have died of natural causes or old age. Hode had to have been killed. Zero-Zero-Three needed to know. 

Not just how Hode died. But how he knew Skeletor. The nature of their association. Why Hode left his daemon to him. Zero-Zero-Three needed to know. 

Flattening his back against the batwing’s landing gear, Skeletor pointed his Havoc Staff at the line of clones firing on them with another wave of magical energy. 

The break in the barrage of fire allowed Skeletor got climb up onto the wing of the batwing and survey the hanger from a better angle. It couldn’t all be one-man fighters. There had to be some other craft- there! 

It was still a fighter in the same general shape as a batwing. Painted a vivid non-standard red and, more importantly, larger than the others. A command-wing. More specifically, Lord Hordwing’s command-wing. The cockpit would still be a single-occupant space. But it would also have an airtight and pressurized cargo hold that Panthor might be able to fit in if Skeletor was willing to leave his helmet and saddle behind. That only left Zero-Zero-Three. 

He was still very heavily indoctrinated by Prime, and that made him burdensome thus far. But he was Hode’s very favorite brother. For Hode’s sake, Skeletor was not willing to leave him behind either. 

Jumping down from the wing, Skeletor made a quick dash over to the bodies of the clones he just neutralized and removed one of their arm canons. Just in time for a fresh round of units to appear on the scene. Skeletor barely managed to jump back behind the cover with his companions before they opened fire on him. He passed the arm canon to Zero-Zero-Three. 

“Here. Since you don’t have a weapon and you’re bad with my swords.” He explained. 

Zero-Zero-Three looked at the weapon, a moment of indecision crossing his eyes. He had killed his own brothers before. Executing them for failure, or incompetence. Killig fellow clones in and of itself was not a problem for him. But when he did, it was always in the service of Horde Prime. If he shot at his own brothers now, if he killed his brothers now… It would be a direct action against Horde Prime. He would be drawing a line between him and his Brother and creator, and placing himself on the opposite side of it. 

Did Zero-Zero-Three really want to do that?

Skeletor said Horde Prime killed Hode. 

Horde Prime said Hode died of natural causes. 

Zero-Zero-Three did not witness Hode’s death and so did not know. He could only choose to believe what he was told, and he was told two different and conflicting accounts. 

He should believe Horde Prime. Prime was his creator, his Emperor, and his Brother. Horde Prime should be trusted and believed without question or hesitation. And yet… Zero-Zero-Three did hesitate and question. 

Because Hode left his deamon to Skeletor. Because Imp seemed to trust Skeletor more than the Horde which created him. Imp was Hode’s deamon, and while Imp was an AI, an intelligence created artificially, he was still intelligent –more than that, Imp was independent. He was capable of disseminating information and drawing his own conclusions independent from the master he was meant to be serving. When Zero-Zero-Three first met Skeletor shortly after Hode’s death, Imp chose to stay with him instead of rejoining the Horde. The only reason Imp ended up with him on Etheria was because they were pulled through the portal together. 

Hode trusted Skeletor enough to leave him his deamon, and the deamon remained loyal to Skeletor. He should believe what Skeletor said. 

But Prime created Hode, just like he created Zero-Zero-Three and all of his 78-million brothers. He should believe what Horde Prime said. 

Perhaps he crouched there in indecision too long, because Skeletor grabbed him and pulled them both to their feet. 

“Daydream on your own time!” Skeletor snapped. “Right now, we gotta move!”

Using his staff to lay down cover fire, Skeletor shoved Zero-Zero-Three towards the next batwing closest to them. “Use the ships for cover.” He ordered. “Panthor, go!”

The Dylinx did not hesitate to jump from behind one batwing fighter to the other. 

Skeletor was the last of the trio to cross from their first cover to their second, doing an overly dramatic and completely unnecessary side-leap maneuver. Firing from his staff as he did.

“What are you doing?” Demanded Zero-Zero-Three, still holding the arm canon Skeletor had shoved in his hands. 

“Trying to get us to that.” Skeletor pointed. 

Zero-Zero-Three followed his finger to the large red fighter on the far end of the hangar. Hordwing’s batwing. 

“But-“ Zero-Zero-Three began a new protest, but was cut off when Skeletor grabbed him again and threw him to the next fighter beside the one they were currently hiding behind. 

“Keep moving!” Skeletor commanded. 

With Skeletor laying down cover fire, Zero-Zero-Three and Panthor slowly made their way from fighter to fighter. Jumping behind one. Resting and regrouping. Waiting for Skeletor to start shooting again with his Havoc Staff. Then darting to the next one. 

It was slow goings and all three of them almost got shot multiple times. 

Finally, they made it to the red batwing. 

Skeletor popped the cockpit open. “Okay, Three, get in.”

“Me?” Blinked Zero-Zero-Three. 

“You’re the only one tall enough to reach the pedals and still work the controls.” Skeletor informed him. 

He had been inside batwing cockpits before. It was a narrow space with a seat that the pilot had to straddle like the Sky-Sleds used on Eternia. But the pilot had to lean forward to reach the controls, while also using his feet to work pedals that controlled the starboard and port thrusters. Horde clones were tall, and the craft being designed for Horde clones, it was difficult for a being of average height like Skeletor to both reach the pedals and work the controls at the same time. 

“I am not programmed as a pilot!” Zero-Zero-Three informed him. 

Before either of them could say or do anything more, the steady rain of weapons fire from the clones stopped ominously. 

That was the only warning they got before something landed on top of the red batwing. 

Skeletor barely had enough time to look up and see what had landed practically on top of them before the electrified ends of two shock batons came swinging at where his nose used to be. 

Throwing himself on the ground to avoid the attack, Skeletor barely managed to grab Zero-Zero-Three as he fell, pulling the other man out of the way as well. 

They both peered up at Hordwing, crouched atop the red batwing. “I don’t like people messing with my ship.”

Skeletor was just barely getting back to his feet while Hordwing was already moving. Deactivating and sheathing his shock batons in one quick motion, before dropping down and using the wing of the fighter to swing at them. 

Skeletor just barely managed to avoid a two-footed kick from Hordwing. 

He dropped back to the ground to avoid the blow. He thrust his Havoc Staff out, entangling it with Hordwing’s legs as the clone was landing.

Hordwing stumbled, but the stumble melted fluidly –almost seamlessly- into a forward flip that, became a hand-spring, and a new landing with firmer footing. His shock batons were back in his hands in seconds. 

Finally managing to get to his feet, Skeletor slung his Havoc Staff over his back and drew his dual swords instead. He used to be a master swordsman back before he was ‘Skeletor’. He was still extremely skilled. But had spent more focus in recent years on his magic, not his swordsmanship and so barely managed to get the blades up to block the next blows from Hordwing’s batons. 

It did not help that Hordwing was also wicked fast. He was a wing-pilot before he was a cabinet Lord and wing-pilots were engineered with quick reflexes. 

Skeletor tried kicking the clone in the middle mass to get him off him, but Hordwing saw the motion and jumped back on his own. Doing a backflip that kicked Skeletor in the chin. (If he still had a tongue, he definitely would have bitten his tongue.)

Skeletor tried swinging at Hordwing mid-flip, intending to cut the clone’s legs or feet. But he was too fast and Skeletor’s blade sliced through nothing but empty air. 

“You cannot beat him!” Zero-Zero-Three called from next to Panthor. 

“Shut-up and get in the batwing!” Skeletor snarled back at him. 

Attention shifting from Skeletor to the still open cockpit of the fighter, Hordwing did another forward flip to propel himself over Skeletor and land closer to the batwing. He swiped at Zero-Zero-Three with his shock batons, forcing the other clone back. 

“This one’s mine!” He was talking about the batwing, not about his deposed brother. 

Zero-Zero-Three barely managed to avoid the first baton, but then he stumbled, tripping over his own feet or the hem of his gown as he backed up. Hordwing was about to bring the second baton down on him, the tip blazing with electrified power, and aimed for the crystal of his armor. 

But Panthor saved him at the last moment. Pouncing on Hordwing and knocking him off of Zero-Zero-Three. 

Panthor tried to bite down on the clone, but Hordwing was fast, nimble, and flexible. He managed to somehow wriggle out of the creature’s mouth before the jaws could bite down and sink the teeth into him. 

Skeletor rejoined his companions and yanked Panthor’s helmet off his head, lobbing the heavy piece of armor at Hordwing who did another backflip to avoid it. Skeletor then crouched by the Dylinx to unbuckle the saddle as well. It slid off Panthor’s back with a loud THUMP on the metal panels of the hanger floor. Skeletor banged a fist down on the hatch release for the cargo container installed in the aft section of the batwing. 

“Panthor, in!”

The Dylinx complied immediately, jumping into the tight space which was just barely large enough for him to loaf in. 

Skeletor took an extra moment to cast a couple protection and shield spells to make sure Panthor would continue to have enough oxygen if the fighter should take damage, or that he wouldn’t get sucked out into space with the hold should be breached. He also took the time to scratched the Dylinx behind the ears and under the chin before shutting and locking the hatch. 

Then Skeletor rounded on Zero-Zero-Three again. “I’m not playing with you, Three. If I have to say it again I will knock you out and stuff you in a cargo hold like Panthor. Get in the fucking fighter!”

There wasn’t opportunity to argue further, because Hordwing was recovered and coming at them again. Both shock batons in hand. He swung as Zero-Zero-Three, but Skeletor pulled him out of the way again. Both men dropping to the ground and rolling under the batwing to plate the fighter between Hordwing and themselves. 

This time, when Skeletor stood, he lifted Zero-Zero-Three off the ground. Bending his knees and hefting the –surprisingly light- Horde clone over his shoulders. He practically threw Zero-Zero-Three into the batwing’s cockpit. 

Zero-Zero-Three barely had time to sit up properly and right the skirts of his gown that had ridden up, before Skeletor was climbing in after him. 

“Sit in it properly and put your feet on the pedals.” Ordered Skeletor. 

Straddling the seat, Zero-Zero-Three pressed his heels all the way back against the pedals and leaned forward. It was deceptively comfortable. But then, the cockpit was designed for an operator of his exact height and measurements. Even the grips on the controls felt comfortable in his hands. If Zero-Zero-Three had ever been programmed as a pilot, he might have enjoyed it. 

Unfortunately, the control console in front of him made no sense. Zero-Zero-Three was not programmed as a pilot and he had no idea what to do. 

“Put your head down.” Skeletor commanded. “It’s about to get real tight and real uncomfortable in here.”

He was not kidding. Skeletor flattened himself on top of Zero-Zero-Three as best he could, and pressed a button on the control console which shut the cockpit. Just in time too, because Hordwing jumped up on the closed hatch just mere seconds after the pressure seal locked. 

Zero-Zero-Three did keep his head down. Not because he was told to, but because there just wasn’t enough space to lift it. All he could see were Skeletor’s blue hands moving wildly over the controls. Then he felt the batwing begin to move. 

“Press down on the pedals.” He told the clone. “Both of them at the same time, the same amount of pressure.”

With literally no other options, for once, Zero-Zero-Three didn’t argue. He did as he was told. Pressing down on the pedals and the batwing moved forward. Skeletor used the controls to move the ship and within moments they were taxying out of its space headed for the hangar bay doors. 

All the while Hordwing continued to bang on the hatch, helpless to prevent his own fighter from being stolen by a defective brother and a would-be assassin. 

Skeletor pressed another button on the controls and the entire exterior of the fighter was wreathed in electricity. Hordwing howled, an almost unnatural sound that made Zero-Zero-Three wince. But he was no longer on top of the hatch trying to pry it open. 

“The blast doors are closed.” Zero-Zero-Three reminded Skeletor, speaking more to the polished console casing since the body on top of him was pressing his face down. 

“Nuance.” Skeletor muttered to him. 

His fingers danced over the control panel, almost as if he’d piloted a batwing fighter before. Switching on the power to the forward guns, setting the energy levels and burn intensity of the lasers. When they were fully charged and he pulled the triggers on the control sticks and melted a giant gaping hole in the hangar blast doors. 

The hanger depressurized, anything that wasn’t bolted down went skittering across the floor, being sucked towards the hole. 

Through the cockpit canopy, Skeletor saw Hordwing drop his shock batons and dig his talons into the hangar floor, digging long gashes into the floor plates as he was dragged to the open gap in the blast doors. 

“Give us more thrust.” Skeletor ordered Zero-Zero-Three. 

But he was never programmed as a pilot and didn’t know what that meant. 

“Slam your feet down on the pedals as hard as you can!” He elaborated impatiently. 

Zero-Zero-Three did and the batwing shot out of the hanger faster than either of them expected. Apparently, Hordwing’s personal fighter had a modified engine to match its modified paint job. 

Skeletor barely had the reaction time to push down on the control stick to send them under the belly of the Lycra Pant, before they collided into it. 

He wove between the capital ships of the cabinet Lords, dreadnaughts, and battleships. Hore Prime had brought almost his whole fleet with him. This was really a lot to collect just one lost clone unit. What else was Prime looking for in the system? What else was on the other side of that rift?

“Ease up on the starboard pedal, keep pressure eon the port.” Skeletor told Zero-Zero-Three. 

The fighter veered to the starboard, with the clone controlling the thrust and with Skeletor weaving between obstacles. 

Then blaster fire streaked past their wing.

Skeletor jerked hard on the control sticks then dipped the nose down, maneuvering erratically to make them a harder target to hit. 

The batwing’s com crackled. “Stolen batwing, you will land in the Lycra Pant’s fighter bay and surrender immediately.” 

The voice was indistinguishable from every other clone Skeletor had ever heard. 

“Lord Hordwing seems upset we stole his fighter.” Zero-Zero-Three commented. 

“Sucks to be him.” Skeletor scoffed. “Both pedals this time, floor it!”

The fighter shot forward, between two dreadnought class warships. Skeletor pulled up on the control sticks, arching over the Lycra Pant and coming back down behind the fighter pursuing them. The pilot looked up at them as that cockpits passed each other and Skeletor noted the red-striped sleeves and gloves of Hordwing’s custom zero-suit. Apparently, the cabinet Lord was very, very upset they stole his personal batwing. 

Skeletor squeezed the triggers on the sticks and shot at Hordwing’s borrowed fighter. It blew out the forward thrusters. 

Inside his cockpit, Hordwing stomped on the pedals, but they refused to fire. He could still maneuver, but couldn’t change or control his propulsion. 

“Ease up on the port.” Skeletor told Zero-Zero-Three. He started guiding the fighter towards Eternia. 

From his position with the other man on top of him Zero-Zero-Three couldn’t see the planet growing in the view shield. Even if he could see it, it wouldn’t have registered. His mind was elsewhere, slowly coming to the realization that by escaping with Skeletor he had placed himself against Horde Prime. But more socking than that, realizing that the realization brought him a strange feeling of security. Skeletor was Hode’s partner. If anyone would know what happened to Hode, it would be him. 

He watched Skeletor’s blue hands work over the controls. Hode always seemed to know what to do. If Hode trusted Skeletor, Zero-Zero-Three could trust him too.


End file.
